Master Dominic – Page 6 – Indie Erotica Collective

Indie Erotica Collective > Master Dominic

Category: Master Dominic

At The Glory Hole With Dad

Posted on May 27, 2018February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

For Jeff’s eighteenth birthday, his dad takes him to the most unexpected place — porn booths at the back of a newspaper shop. He expects it to be horribly awkward and wishes he could just run away, but then he learns his father’s biggest secret … he’s experienced at pleasuring men at the glory hole. Inducted into this secret world by his father, Jeff learns how to best service an anonymous man — but while Jeff pleasuring someone else, his father can’t keep his hands off Jeff, leading to a threesome that will make this the best birthday ever.

At The Glory Hole With Dad is a 3,300-word short story.

The man and my dad both watch me as I awkwardly fumble for my wallet. My cheeks are burning and surely turning a deep scarlet. I hand my license over to him and he examines it, looks at me, looks back at the license, and hands it back.

“Happy birthday, kid.” Then he looks at my dad. “Birthday boys and their dads get in for free.” He nods his head to the side, indicating we can go in. He hits a button under the counter and I hear a soft buzz — dad leads me through the small gate and into the darkened hallway beyond.

“Closed doors mean a room is taken,” dad says. There are a series of doors with numbers on them, with each room surely not much bigger than a closet. Dad leads me to the far end, to room number ten, and we find the door slightly ajar. This room seems to be slightly bigger since the door is set a little further away, and the room contains two chairs in front of a dark flat screen TV.

Dad enters and I follow, then he closes the door behind us. I can’t look at my dad, can’t meet his eyes. He closes the door and the click of the lock seems intimidating.

“Dad … does mom know you come here?” I still can’t look him in the eye.

“No,” he says, without hesitation or even a hint of remorse in his voice. “What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. Besides, lots of married guys come here.”

I shake my head, simply not knowing what to say. I make sure the chairs don’t have any dried cum on them and then take a seat. I stare at the darkened TV, waiting for dad to just turn it on and get this over with. Like, are we going to just watch or are we stroking one out? Either way, this is too uncomfortable. Also, dad doesn’t know yet that I’m gay — I don’t want to watch some girl getting gangbanged.

“Jeff,” dad says, “this is what we’re here for.”

It takes me a moment to realize that he’s not sitting beside me. I turn to find him on his knees in front of a hole in the wall that separates us from the neighboring booth.

Punished by Daddy

Posted on February 21, 2018February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

When Jessie is brought home by the cops, he knows he’s disappointed his daddy. But as soon as the police leave and it’s just father and son, Jessie learns just how angry his father truly is. Though he’s eighteen, an adult, his father lays a whooping on his bare ass, then threatens to tell Jessie’s mother all about what happened. Jessie, though, is desperate to keep this a secret from his mother and will do anything — anything — to please his father.

Punished By Daddy is a 3,400-word short story.

Daddy’s hand comes slamming down on my bare ass again, re-igniting the fire he’d set off with this thorough spanking. I’m eighteen — an adult — and here I am getting an over-the-knee spanking like I’m a little boy. I grunt, doing my best not to cry out in pain, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to hold back the tears of pain that threaten to fall.

Finally, he stops spanking me and he rests his hand on my tender cheeks. He starts smoothing his hand over my hairless skin, soothing the fire.

“Stand up, son,” he says. I can hear the anguish in his voice — he doesn’t like that he had to punish me. He doesn’t like that he had to do this.

It’s all my fault. I made a stupid choice and was brought home by the cops, barely avoiding a criminal charge. Dad is furious.

I push myself to my feet. My ass is so sore that I wince with every movement. I struggle to stand, but my knees give out and my feet are tangled in my jeans and briefs. I fall to the floor and I let out a yelp of pain as I land hard on my ass. Those tears that I had struggled so hard to hold back suddenly spring forth, rolling down my cheeks. I look up at daddy, his angry face blurry through the tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Even though my sight is tear-blurred, I can see his anger softening. He knows I’m genuinely apologetic. He knows I never want to make him mad.

He puts his hand on my head and ruffles my hair, like he always does. In that simple touch, I know things will be okay. With his other hand and his thick, meaty fingers, he wipes away my tears.

“I know, son. I know.” He puts his hands on his hips and I suddenly feel lost without daddy’s touch. “But you’ve really disappointed me tonight. Your mother is going to be so upset when we tell her the cops brought you home.”

A new wave of sadness crashes into me and tears threaten to fall again. “Please don’t tell her, daddy. Please. I’ll do anything to make it up to you — anything!”

He puts his hand on my head again, running his fingers through my hair. It’s a tender gesture, fatherly. But then his face turns almost sinister.

“I love it when you beg, boy.” He grips my hair and I yelp as he pulls my head toward him, shoving my face in his crotch. “You want to make it up to me, son? You can start here.”

Gay Piss Play 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on February 21, 2018February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Gay sex is unsatisfying unless men let their bladders loose and add hot, acrid, tart piss to the fun. In this soaking wet bundle are the following previously-published piss stories:

PISSING MY PANTS IN PUBLIC: When William accidentally wets his pants in public, his moment of shame quickly turns into the erotic encounter of a lifetime.
CRUISING FOR PISS: A discreet men’s room encounter rapidly turns into an orgy filled with piss, gloryholes, fisting, and more!
TRUCKER PISS: A straight, married trucker discovers the wet and messy fun of gay piss play.
PISSING MY DIAPER: Needing a little stress relief, Logan hits up his much older friend with benefits, Mike, for some hot dad/son role play, complete with diapers.

21,500-word bundle

“I gotta take a piss — I’ll be right back,” I tell my buddies as I get to my feet. The world spins as I do so and I grab the back of a friend’s chair to steady myself. I’m drunker than I thought I was.

The loud music of the Pride festival pounds through the air, surrounding us here in the beer tent. But even above that noise, I can hear my buddies laughing at me. I’m the lightweight of the group — they always joke about it, calling me the “two drink bottom twink.”

I ignore them and weave my way through the tables toward the exit. The portapotties — I need to find the portapotties. With every step I take, it’s like my bladder gets fuller. I start getting that tingly feeling that starts in my crotch and spreads to my core — my body’s telling me that if I don’t get to a portapotty quick, I’m gonna fucking piss my pants.

I start to feel panicked. I’m close to bursting, but I can’t even see the heads from where I am. I break into a wobbly trot that turns into a clumsy run as I try to get to the blue plastic stalls as fast as my twink ass can get there. As I round a bend, I’m sure I feel a little bit leaking out, soaking the jockstrap I’m wearing beneath my skintight jeans.

Hoping to stave off another leak, I grind the heel of my hand against my dick, trying to hold everything in place. Finally! I see a line of tall, blue boxes past a crowd of people. My clumsy run turns into a full-on sprint across the stretch of field between me and the heads.

I slow down, just slightly, as I approach the crowd of people. Is this a line? A fucking line? I need to get in the portapotty in the next two seconds or it’s all over for me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter as I bump past someone. “Pardon me. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Pardon me.” I finally push past the last person between me and relief — a muscular leather bear — and finally my drunken footsteps give out and I tumble to the ground in front of this masculine man.

And that moment of sweet release hits — right when I so desperately don’t want it. It’s too late, I can’t stop it — and now that it’s started and I’ve already ruined my day, I wouldn’t even stop it if I could. My bladder empties out, my piss coming in a torrent inside my jockstrap and jeans.

My hot, wet piss soaks through the denim and spreads, making my whole lap steaming. I let out a moan of intense pleasure as I continue to empty out. Pissing never felt as good as it does right now.

Finally ... finally ... my flow turns into a dribble and then it ends. It’s like awareness returns to me in bits and pieces. The last several seconds — minutes? — were so all-consumed by the relief of pissing myself that I had forgotten for the moment where I was and the predicament I’m now in.

The first thing I hear is laughter. It isn’t the laughter of responding to a joke — no, this is much more mocking. This is the laughter of shame. Fuck. I open my eyes and find dozens of people staring at me. Pointing. Laughing. Fuck — a couple guys have their phones out and are filming me. The leather bear looms over me with a smirk on his face.

Pissing My Diaper (Gay Piss Play #4)

Posted on February 21, 2018February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

“Hold it,” he commands.

I like to call him my daddy, given our thirty year age difference, and he likes to call me his son. It adds a taboo edge to our kinky play that heightens the heat of the moment.

“Yes, daddy,” I say.

If my frat brothers could see me know, they’d kill themselves laughing. Or they might beat me up for being a fag, then laugh when I’ve got a broken nose. But they have their kinks and I have mine — even though mine are, well, a little weirder.

Daddy walks in a circle around me again. He’s wearing a suit and tie that fit him snugly, accentuating his bulging muscles and gargantuan basket. After circling me, he walks over to the counter that divides the kitchen from the living room and grabs another bottle of water, bringing it over to me.

“Drink” he says, handing me the bottle.

I take it from him, put it to my lips, and tilt my head back, guzzling down the whole bottle in ten seconds flat. I let out a little burp, then hand him the empty bottle. That’s the sixth one I’ve downed in the last ten minutes. He has six more sitting on the counter.

He takes the bottle and puts it next to the other empties, but before grabbing the next full one, he comes over to me. He places his hand on my bare stomach, rubbing smooth circles over my abs.

“How are you doing, son?” he asks, his voice a mix of tenderness and domination.

“I’m okay, daddy, but I’m gonna have to piss soon.”

“Mmm,” he says, and moves his hand lower down, massaging my bulge through the adult diaper I’m wearing. The rest of me is naked and my skin is chilled. Daddy likes to keep the temperature low when I’m in my diaper, so that my nipples turn hard and the heat of a soon-to-be-wet diaper contrasts so much more. “Hold it until I say. Understood, boy?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Over the next ten minutes, daddy makes me drink the last six bottles of water. My stomach is so full it’s bulging, making sloshing noises with every movement I make. I can feel the water as it snakes through my gut and settles in my bladder. Like a water balloon, my bladder expands and expands, soon reaching the point where I start to worry it’s going to burst.

“Daddy?” I ask.

“Yes, son?”

“I really need to pee.”

“Hold it, boy. I told you to hold it.” Daddy sits down on the couch, the fabric of his pants stretching taut over his leg muscles and his thick bulge. I watch him as he gropes himself, wishing he would open his fly and let his cock hang out. I wish daddy would make me suck it and eat all the cum that he shoots out.

Fuck, my overwhelming need to piss interrupts my train of thought and overtakes me. I really need to go, to just let it all flood out. My bladder is so full it hurts. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, feeling extra cold in this cool room, and I start shifting from foot to foot, simply unable to stand still.

I’m holding it for the mere fact that daddy told me to. If it weren’t for him, or if I was a bad boy, I would’ve pissed in my diaper by now.

“Please, daddy,” I beg. “Please, let me pee.”

Trucker Piss (Gay Piss Play #3)

Posted on February 21, 2018February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Wayne is a long-haul trucker in urgent need of a toilet. He pulls up at a quiet rest stop with only one other vehicle in the parking lot. Full to bursting, nearly wetting his pants, Wayne rushes into the building, only to find the washrooms out of order. Absolutely desperate, he hurries out to the woods surrounding the rest stop and unzips, determined to take a leak behind a tree. But just as he’s about to let it flow, a young man comes through the woods and falls to his knees in front of Wayne, with his mouth open. Wayne, a straight and married man, embarks on a wet and erotic adventure that will forever change him.

5,400-word short story

I hurry out of the building and toward a thick stand of trees just a little ways off. Halfway there, I open my pants and let my cock hang out, but I hold off on pissing until I get behind the trees.

Right as I’m about to let loose and empty my bladder, I hear the shuffle of footsteps on gravel and dried leaves. I jerk my head toward the sound and spot a young man walking my way, wearing overalls. A plumber, I realize, the person who’s here to fix the washroom. But he’s walking toward me. I catch his gaze and he’s watching me with intensity.

I quickly pack my cock back into my boxers and zip up my jeans. I’m about to apologize to him, but then he stops several feet in front of me and falls to his knees. What’s this about? He opens his mouth, like he’s a baby bird, begging to be fed.

“What are you doing?” I ask. Sweat — from the urgency of my need to piss — pours down from my forehead, rolling down my face. If I don’t let loose any second now, my pants will be soaking and stinky.

He doesn’t answer — he just sits there, on his knees, with his mouth open.

“Are you some kind of fag?” I ask. I inwardly chastise myself for using such a word, as I think of my wife slapping my arm for it.

I look him up and down — he’s young, no older than twenty, skinny, and with dark hair. For all the gay men to hit on me, especially for something as disgusting as what I suspect he wants, at least he’s attractive. That thought freezes me for a moment — do I think he’s attractive? If so, what does that mean about me?

Before I can ponder that question further, I feel another drop of piss snake its way down my urethra and dribble into my boxers, growing the small wet spot. I have no time to think on this — I need to piss or I feel like I’m going to die.

Carefully and slowly, like I’m expecting him to call me perverted and pull out a cop badge or something, I unzip my jeans and nudge them down to the tops of my thighs, then do the same with my boxers. I lean back a few degrees, grab my cock, and angle so my piss stream should arc toward the young man’s face.

Almost reluctantly, I relax myself and let my piss stream out of me. It arcs through the air, looking both golden and magical as it catches the light as it dapples through the trees. With perfect aim, my piss strikes the guy in the face, square in his mouth. I watch as my piss puddles there. I’m entranced as he swallows it down, my piss splattering all over his face, and then he opens his mouth again for another drink.

Cruising For Piss (Gay Piss Play #2)

Posted on May 22, 2017February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Mark is desperately horny — so desperate, he’s staked himself out at a park men’s room that doubles as a popular cruising spot, hoping to have some fun with the next man who walks through the door. His jaw just about drops and his lust almost overwhelms him when he sees who’s come to scope him out and pick him up — a masculine, hairy, muscular leather bear, a man who exudes sex and seems built for porn. But what starts as a simply meeting of two horny men for a discreet encounter very quickly turns into a piss-filled orgy, pushing Mark to the edges of — and beyond — his limits and what he believes himself capable of.

5,600-word short story

I unzip my jeans and let my cock hang out. I don’t have to piss, but this is the park washroom supposedly notorious for hookups. I’m so fucking horny — so desperate for cock — that I’m willing to hang out in this men’s room for as long as it takes to get a cock in my mouth or my ass, or preferably both.

My cock is already semi-hard and throbbing with every heartbeat. I grab it and start stroking, pumping my fist back and forth, pleasuring my dick. I have to hold off from coming, hold off from shooting my wad, because I need a cock in me before getting off. Otherwise, I’ll just be back here tomorrow, waiting for the same thing.

If what I’ve read online is true, that this is a cruising spot, it shouldn’t take long, especially with me being a young twink. The door squeaks as it swings open and a set of heavy footsteps come tromping through the washroom.

I let the back of my pants sag a bit, so that whoever came in could see the top of my ass, framed by the band of my red jockstrap. If this is some straight dude or park security, I’m not over the top, but if it’s a desperate gay guy like me, then it’s a clear signal of what I need.

My eyes bug out and my jaw just about drops when the man comes to the urinal right beside me — out of the seven urinals lined up along the wall, he chooses the one right next to mine — he’s the biggest, butchest leather muscle bear I’ve ever seen. Good God, he’s porn star quality. His black leather vest and black leather pants hug him in all the right places, accentuating his bulging muscles and the fatness of his crotch. His bare and hairy arms glisten with sweat from this hot summer day. I look up at his face — rugged and bearded, with a shaved head — and feel my cock get fiercely hard in my hand.

I watch as he raises his hand and puts a sausage-like finger in his mouth, getting it nice and wet. Then he reaches in the back of my pants, grabs my ass, and shoves that saliva-slickened finger in my hole. I groan and my knees nearly buckle as he keeps pushing his finger in me, until it’s fully embedded in my ass.

With his other hand, he unzips his fly and let’s his fat cock hang out. The silver cock ring tight around the base of his dick and balls shines brightly in the fluorescent light. I watch in awe as a thick golden stream arcs from the slit of his dick and splatters on the dirty porcelain. When the bowl of the urinal is half full of his dark piss, he lets go of his cock and lets his piss stream splatter all over the place — the wall, the floor, my pants — and pulls me close to kiss me. He shoves his tongue deep in my mouth, playing with my tonsils, and the scruff on his face scratches against my lips.

Pissing My Pants In Public (Gay Piss Play #1)

Posted on May 22, 2017February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

“I gotta take a piss — I’ll be right back,” I tell my buddies as I get to my feet. The world spins as I do so and I grab the back of a friend’s chair to steady myself. I’m drunker than I thought I was.

The loud music of the Pride festival pounds through the air, surrounding us here in the beer tent. But even above that noise, I can hear my buddies laughing at me. I’m the lightweight of the group — they always joke about it, calling me the “two drink bottom twink.”

I ignore them and weave my way through the tables toward the exit. The portapotties — I need to find the portapotties. With every step I take, it’s like my bladder gets fuller. I start getting that tingly feeling that starts in my crotch and spreads to my core — my body’s telling me that if I don’t get to a portapotty quick, I’m gonna fucking piss my pants.

I start to feel panicked. I’m close to bursting, but I can’t even see the heads from where I am. I break into a wobbly trot that turns into a clumsy run as I try to get to the blue plastic stalls as fast as my twink ass can get there. As I round a bend, I’m sure I feel a little bit leaking out, soaking the jockstrap I’m wearing beneath my skintight jeans.

Hoping to stave off another leak, I grind the heel of my hand against my dick, trying to hold everything in place. Finally! I see a line of tall, blue boxes past a crowd of people. My clumsy run turns into a full-on sprint across the stretch of field between me and the heads.

I slow down, just slightly, as I approach the crowd of people. Is this a line? A fucking line? I need to get in the portapotty in the next two seconds or it’s all over for me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter as I bump past someone. “Pardon me. Sorry. Sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Pardon me.” I finally push past the last person between me and relief — a muscular leather bear — and finally my drunken footsteps give out and I tumble to the ground in front of this masculine man.

And that moment of sweet release hits — right when I so desperately don’t want it. It’s too late, I can’t stop it — and now that it’s started and I’ve already ruined my day, I wouldn’t even stop it if I could. My bladder empties out, my piss coming in a torrent inside my jockstrap and jeans.

My hot, wet piss soaks through the denim and spreads, making my whole lap steaming. I let out a moan of intense pleasure as I continue to empty out. Pissing never felt as good as it does right now.

Finally ... finally ... my flow turns into a dribble and then it ends. It’s like awareness returns to me in bits and pieces. The last several seconds — minutes? — were so all-consumed by the relief of pissing myself that I had forgotten for the moment where I was and the predicament I’m now in.

The first thing I hear is laughter. It isn’t the laughter of responding to a joke — no, this is much more mocking. This is the laughter of shame. Fuck. I open my eyes and find dozens of people staring at me. Pointing. Laughing. Fuck — a couple guys have their phones out and are filming me. The leather bear looms over me with a smirk on his face.

Taking My Son’s Butt Cherry

Posted on May 22, 2017February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Ted has always been close with his sons. When they were still children, it was just innocent affection, but as they got older, that closeness never faded. If anything, it got stronger, especially with Dylan, his youngest, when he would often spend late nights with Ted that ended with him snuggled up in his dad’s arms on the couch.

When Ted’s wife dies, that closeness with Dylan only intensifies as Dylan starts joining his father in bed, cuddling up close and leaving Ted uncomfortably aroused. The intense connection builds until finally, one night, unable to hold back anymore, Ted makes a move on his son, satisfying an urge for immediate erotic gratification. He feels guilty, but soon learns that this pleasure isn’t quite so forbidden. As it turns out, Dylan wants it just as bad as he does.

17,500-word novella

Things got tough around the house after Donna, my wife, passed away. She did a lot of things for us and I didn’t realize how much I relied on her, even though our marriage had tapered out in the last few years and we’d lived more or less as roommates. One moment it was life as usual, the next, I was a widowed father of two, self-made millionaire from an online multimedia company, and the big house we’d lived in, which was big enough for a family of ten, suddenly felt way too big.

In those last years before she died, I’d spent more time with my sons and found I got closer with them, especially my youngest, Dylan. Movie nights with Donna soon became movie nights with the boys. We’d even stay up late sometimes and watch several movies. Scottie, the older by two years, would often go to bed but Dylan and I would stay up and sometimes he’d curl up in my arms and nestle against my lap.

At first, it was just comfortable to be close with him, like when he was a little boy and he wanted to snuggle up with his daddy, but during those movie nights, I found, after he’d fall asleep and curl up, his head near to my crotch, that when I shifted to get closer to him I’d turn so my crotch was closer to his chest, the pressure sending a rush of excitement that had me hard as a rock. I’d put my hand on his back and massage his shoulders, feel his mouth against my chest, and think of how good his soft, warm lips felt through the fabric of my button-up shirt.

Then Donna died unexpectedly of an aneurism in her sleep. I was so shocked by it, I didn’t cry until after five days, and even then the tears were ones of guilt. I blamed myself for letting our love die, and felt so lonely; in some ways, even blamed myself for her death, found myself awake many nights wondering if I’d taken a bit more time to try rekindling what we had if she might have lived.

Donna was gone, and the boys were all I had left. After the guilt passed, there was loneliness, but there was Dylan and Scottie, always with me, and they helped me heal. They spent a lot of time comforting me, helping me around the house, making sure I was all right.

We still had our movie nights, but even when we didn’t, Dylan would often come to my bed after Scottie went to sleep and cuddle up with me. It was innocent on his part, I was sure of it, but I was lonelier than ever and those nights I couldn’t get over how good it felt to have him with me. I’d put my arms around him and snuggle him close, pressing my hard erection shamelessly against his bottom.

If he noticed, he never told me, so this became a thing that we did every night when he’d curl up in my bed. I even found that when he got into my bed he’d turn, facing away, and would push his bubble butt against my waist as I pulled the cover up over us and nestled him in my arm, so I didn’t question it. I’ve always been a go with the flow kind of guy.

One night, after I was spooning him and my cock was throbbing with the pressure and warmth of his butt crack against it, I couldn’t hold back anymore, so I started to move back and forth a little, after I could hear Dylan sleeping. It didn’t take long before I felt my cock pulse and explode with an orgasm unlike any I’d had in years. Cum pumped out so hard I could feel it flooding my underwear, shooting hard against the fabric, but I just kept humping and didn’t want the pleasure to stop. Finally, when I was empty and spent, I wrapped my arm tighter around my son and pulled him close, sinking deep into sleep. In the morning, when he got up, I noticed the yellowed stain of my dried cum all over his pajama bottoms, and couldn’t help grinning in satisfaction at how I’d not only shot my wad so hard it went right through my underwear, but how I’d also marked my son in a way so intimate and secret. When he left for school I found I was hard already thinking about what it would be like to do it again when the day was over, and so I couldn’t wait for the day to end.

Gay BDSM Club 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on May 22, 2017February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Daniel’s life is forever changed when he wanders into Sailor’s Knot, a gay BDSM sex club. When a powerful, older man takes Daniel on as his sub, everything he thought he knew about BDSM is turned on its head — no longer is it something Daniel considers kinky, rather, it’s now something he wants all the time. He wants it harder, deeper, and more intense. This bundle collects all four stories in Master Dominic’s hot series — perfect for some one-handed reading.

This scorching hot bundle includes:
GAY SUB INITIATION: Badly needing sex, Daniel wanders into what he thinks is a bathhouse, only to find out it’s a BDSM sex club — and now he doesn’t want to leave.
GAY SUB OBEYS: Daniel has trouble accepting his role as sub, rebelling against his Master, but a punishment soon puts Daniel back in his place.
GAY SUB CHASTITY: With Master gone for two weeks, Daniel is locked in chastity and learns a further lesson about obeying his Master.
GAY SUB FISTED: Daniel’s understanding of pleasure is stretched beyond his previous limits by Master’s fist.

24,500-word bundle

Ahead of me, I heard a few soft voices echoing against the walls. The corridor suddenly opened to a larger room and my eyes almost bugged out as I took in the full sight of the room. The walls were lined with hooks, and hanging from these hooks were paddles and riding crops. In the middle of the room, chains hung down from the ceiling. And on padded leather benches lining the room, five hairy muscle daddies sat, conversing and wearing leather caps and harnesses. Their conversation died down and, one by one, each of them looked at me.

Oh, shit. That’s what the guy’s smirk was about. This wasn’t a regular bathhouse, it was some sort of leather BDSM playhouse. I turned around and quickly walked away.

“Stop,” said one of the men, his voice so strong and deep.

I silently cursed to myself when I found myself halting. I stood there, still facing away from the men, feeling so very exposed and a little bit scared. Behind me, I heard the gentle slap of someone’s bare feet as he got up from his seat and walked slowly over to me.

“You’re new here, aren’t you, boy?” said the voice. It was the same man that had commanded me to stop. His pace slowed as he got nearer to me. I still didn’t look back at him. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge the situation I’d put myself in.

“Yeah. But I’m leaving,” I said.

“That would be a shame,” he said. His voice was close to my ear — I could feel the gentle tickle of his breath. A calloused hand touched my ass and I flinched, but then it stroked my ass cheek. “I think you should stay. We could have some fun.”

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart, then turned around. The man who had approached me seemed to be in his fifties and had a well-honed body, with a smattering of silvering hair over his chest. He wore a studded leather cap, a studded leather harness, and — I couldn’t help looking down — a matching leather cockring. His dick hung fat and heavy, framed from behind with low-hanging balls. I felt a sudden surge of blood to my cock, stiffening it up.

What the fuck was going on with me? Was I really so horned up that I might actually go for guy like this? That I might let him whip me or whatever base desire he had to act out?

“What kind of fun do you have in mind?” I asked. Fuck — it was like my brain was telling me to get the fuck out of there, but my libido was overriding every decision I tried to make. I could feel my dick continuing to harden and my ass started tingling deep inside like it was telling me I needed to get stuffed nice and deep.

“You’ll have to come with me to find out, kid.”

I was acutely aware that we were having this conversation in front of four other leather daddies. Leaning to the side a bit, I looked past this guy and saw the four men watching us with rapt attention.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said, a gentle smile forming on his lips. “They’ve all got boys; they’re waiting for them to arrive.”

“And you? Do you already have a boy?” Part of me wished he did so that I could turn around and walk out of here, but a larger part of me wanted to beg him to let me be his boy.

“I don’t. My last sub moved on a few months ago and I’ve just been waiting for the right young man to come walking into my life.” He tugged my nipple. “And here you are.”

I stepped a little closer to him and felt the head of my dick brush against his hairy pelvis. “I don’t ... I don’t know if I’m ready for Dom/sub stuff,” I admitted.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached between us and wrapped his thick fingers around my cock. “This tells me otherwise. Come with me, boy.” He turned around, not letting go of my dick, and led me out of this main room and down another hallway.

Gay Sub Fisted (Gay BDSM Club #4)

Posted on May 22, 2017February 18, 2020 by indieerotica

Daniel’s been longing to get his Master to put him in the sling — to find out what it means to be truly submissive. Tonight is that night, Master promised him. But what Daniel doesn’t know is the limits that Master plans to push, and the new heights of pleasure he’ll achieve. For only by completely and totally giving in to Master can Daniel take what’s given to him, especially when it’s Master’s fist.

Gay Sub Fisted picks up where Gay Sub Chastity left off.

4,700-word short story

Master folded his arms across his broad chest. “I know you’re anxious, kid, but we have to warm you up a bit before we start you out in the sling.” He turned around and walked down the corridor behind him, his magnificent, hairy ass capturing my full attention. “Follow me, kid,” he ordered, without looking back to see if I was obeying.

I hurried after him, almost sad to be leaving the sling behind — but getting increasingly turned on because each step was one step closer to Master having his way with me. And I would be in the sling tonight — if Master said I needed to be warmed up first, then I needed it. He knew what was best for me.

He led me to a locked room near the end of the hallway and I followed him in. With the dim lighting in the room, the shadows played over his muscles, making them look harder and larger. My cock was so hard right now as I took in the full sight of his masculinity.

“Lie down on the bed — face down.”

“Yes, Sir.” I got on the bed — a thin mattress covered with a sheet that seemed to be partly made of rubber — and laid face down as instructed. I turned my head to the side so I could still watch Master as he rummaged through the black duffel bag he always had with him.

All he pulled out was a big bottle of lube.

He came and sat down next to me on the bed, near my ass. “We’re going to take it nice and slow, kid. We need to loosen up this ass of yours.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said. I was a little confused because I’d never had trouble taking Sir’s dick before, so I didn’t know why I needed to be loosened up. Unless he was planning to put something larger than his cock in my hole.

Before I could think further on it, Master pressed his finger against my knot. I moaned as he forced his thick finger, slick with cold lube, into my hole. He massaged it back and forth, not going in too deep yet, but just enough to relax and tease the edge of my hole.