Category: R.J. Ridge

Wrestling for Dominance at the Dungeon Games (The Berlin Underground #2)

Peter is now an official candidate for the Antinous Society, but that doesn't make life any easier. As he dismisses romantic overtures from Mark, Peter joins an app to find a quick and easy hook up in the public toilets. But the man behind the divider is not just an up and coming politician, he's a direct competitor in the dungeon games, an exclusive event which will determine rankings for the coming trials to join the Antinous Society. Peter faces stiff competition at the dungeon games, forced to fight for a place as an alpha or beta. But will it even matter, as the competition's betas are expected to turn the supposed doms into quivering submissives as Berlin's fabled underground dungeon games begin.

Wrestling for Dominance at the Dungeon Games is a 12,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


“Please welcome,” the referee announced into a booming microphone, “number two!” A round of cheers and applause—twice as loud as for me—erupted as a man jogged confidently into the ring and waved to his adoring fans. My heart plunged. Who else would it be but Andreas Bareiß. The politician waved to his fans with powerful muscled arms, smoothing back blond hair while flashing a vote-winning grin. Bareiß didn’t even acknowledge me. Perhaps he didn’t remember? Certainly he hadn’t seen me as I’d sucked his ample cock through a glory hole, and during our interview in the car, he’d spoken more into the selfie camera of his mobile phone than directly to me. 

“Ranked number two in the entire dungeon underground,” the referee said, “the protege of the Dungeon Master himself will face off against the unranked newcomer for tonight’s Dungeon Games opener.” I wasn’t listening. Bareiß was doing warmups: stretching his legs and arms and cracking knuckles. I copied him exactly. Move for move, and looked like a fool in the process. I didn’t quite know what losing meant, or even what I had to do to win, but there was one seat left by the hooded and cuffed men, and one seat next to the victorious-looking ones. I knew which seat Bareiß intended to take.

“Standard penetration match rules,” the referee said, locking the hexagon’s door, with him on the outside. “You win by inserting your penis into your opponent’s mouth two times in a row, for at least ten seconds. Or once into your opponent's anus for a full thirty seconds. The penis must be inserted up to the testicles and must remain fully inside your opponent until the whistle is blown. A double whistle means the challenge or attempt is invalid, and you must return to the starting position. Ejaculation results in immediate disqualification.”

“Um, excuse me,” I chased him around the outside of the cage. “How do we forfeit?” The referee just laughed. I supposed ejaculation. 

“Gentleman, place your bets now.”

There was a flurry of activity from the crowd. Karl was leading a small but boisterous group who were all yelling and shouting down the rest of the crowd who clearly backed Herr Bareiß. As scared as I felt, if Karl and his crew hadn't been there, drumming up even the smallest amount of support, I would have vaulted over the mesh walls and made a run for it. 

Bareiß had me in his sights. A glowing look of recognition passed through blue eyes. A blond eyebrow raised. I felt he was about to say something when the whistle blew. The crowd cheered and I was thrust into some Roman-esque games more at home in a Colosseum than a Berlin sex dungeon. Bareiß edged around the mat, dancing on bare feet, arms up. No one told me this wasn’t a contact sport, so I rested on my years of forced rugby at high school in London and made a running tackle. In a flurry of shocked shouts from the crowd, the man who might be the next Chancellor of Germany fell flat on his back. I was on top, legs straddling his body. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Instinct told me to punch him in the face, but Karl, who’d rushed down to the front, shouted:

“Put your dick in his mouth!”

Purchase Your Copy

The Secret Fisting Academy (The Berlin Underground #1)

After a night spent with Mark and his friends at a live porn show where Peter wins the chance to fist the famous porn star Dolf, Peter is one step closer to deciding to join the Antinous Society. But it's not so easy. He must first impress one of Berlin's underground masters in order to progress his application, and decides the fisting route is the least bad of all the options on the table. All Peter has to do is survive a night at Berlin's secret fisting academy, but that is easier said than done.

The Secret Fisting Academy is an 11,800-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


“Number four-nine-five!” a voiceover said in English. People started to look under their drinks. 

“I’m four-nine-seven,” Mark said. “Quick,” he said to me. “Check under yours.”

Sure enough, under my glass was a small strip of plastic stuck to the bottom with the lucky numbers.

“Oh God,” I said, “what now?” Dolf had inserted a random fan’s beer bottle into his ass, and given it back for him to drink. Although I could respect his talent, if having a wide-open hole could be considered as such, but I was hardly a fan. I had a flashback to Noah and my night at a Berlin bar when a young twink got fisted on stage. My body shivered with the thought Dolf might do the same to me. “I don’t want to get fucked on stage,” I yelled to Mark. 

“Just get up there,” he said, and started pointing at me so the whole warehouse knew who the lucky winner was. Gulping, I had no choice but to make my way to the stage, surrounded by perfect bodies and mean, jealous eyes.

“What’s your name?” the famous Dolf asked me. He smelled like lube and poppers.

“Peter.” The crowd applauded, but I could feel their hate. I was more nervous to upset them than disappoint Dolf. The dildos had been cleared and Dolf mounted the table, readying himself on all fours, snapping the straps of the jockstrap cupping his round ass.

“Roll up your sleeve,” said his leather-bound assistant. With nowhere to run, I did just that. He unfurled a black silicone glove, long enough to birth a calf. With all the tenderness of a doctor’s office, the assistant raised my arm and slid the leather sheath over it. The crowd edged closer as I saw Dolf take a blast of poppers and realized what was about to happen. They wanted me to fist Dolf.

“Are you ready, Peter?” Dolf yelled to the crowd.

“Um…” My glove was slathered in lube as Dolf shuffled backwards. His hole beckoned. It didn’t look very open, but the crowd was starting to chant and clap their hands in time.

“Come on, Peter, give me your best shot. Who wants to see me get fist fucked?”

The crowd cheered. I had no choice. Sucking in an anxious breath, I approached with one gloved finger. It slid straight in. Dolf arched his back and pushed into me. I didn’t even have to move for his ass to expand around my knuckles. 

“Fist him, fist him,” the crowd chanted. 

“Punch my hole open, Peter.” 

What was I to do? I withdrew the half of my hand already inside, and more lube was squeezed on. Dolf pulled his cheeks apart and showed me the open target. I made a fist to the crowd, and they cheered. Tightening my grip, I held onto one of Dolf’s ass cheeks for support, then hurled my fist straight at his hole.

Purchase Your Copy

A Bull at the Forced Chastity Cuck-Fest (The Berlin Tales #4)

Peter is shocked to learn of the depth of Karl and Tomas' forced cuck relationship, manipulated by the powerful Richard, who is also Tomas' keyholder. With Tomas on the verge of freedom after months of chastity, Peter is set a gargantuan task of impressing Richard. But can he unlock Tomas while saving this cuck couple from even greater humiliation, while still having a shot at joining the illustrious Antinous Society?

The Berlin Tales are a collection of short erotic fantasies centered on the gay men who populate Berlin, the capital of kink.

A Bull at the Forced Chastity Cuck-Fest is a 10,500-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


“Meet Lukas,” Richard said, taking the young man by the hand and bringing him within smelling distance. “He’s just like you, Peter. Another potential recruit into our most noble and ancient society. He works for one of my television networks in Denmark—”

“Sweden,” Lukas said, with a sharp, international boarding school accent.

“Oh, that’s right. Anyway, his boss is also, shall we say, beholden to me.” Richard shook his bracelet, the silver keys dancing in shards of sunlight bouncing off the pots and ornaments and glasses waiting to be drunk. I had the pounding sensation we were not alone. “Two strapping young men stand before me. I wonder which one will win my affection?” With a giggle, Richard bounced to the back of the room and sat on his chair as tall as a throne between two stretches of low couches. He clapped his hands. “Enter!”

From all sides, secret doors opened. Paintings and tapestries swung in the forced breeze as well-dressed men entered Richard’s domain. It might feel like the final scene of an action movie, but these men weren’t carrying guns. They led in other men—naked men—wearing thick white hoods, hands roped together, and a collar around their necks with the attached chain held by their suited companions. Solemnly, they entered to my gawking shock, and even Lukas’ wide-eyed wonderment. 

Each well-dressed man, their ages and features as diverse as the Antinous Society itself, and in fact I recognized a few, led their naked companion to a different pouf or couch at the front of the room. Eleven couples came out in total. No, twelve. The last one rushing out of the secret door farthest away stole my breath away. Karl came out in a waistcoat, his eyes to the floor, leading a hooded, naked Tomas into the open room.

Tomas’ hairy, ample body waddled anxiously through the path that Karl led him. The metal chastity cage glinting in the sunlight, just like the rest of them, I suddenly realized. Every one of the naked, hooded men being helped by their partners to climb onto their stations had the exact same metal cage swallowing their cock. But their partners were doing something to it. From pockets they pulled out condom wrappers, tore them open, unrolled the rubbers and stretched the condoms over their partners’ caged cocks. In the far corner, Karl bent down and did the same thing, tucking the rubber over Tomas’ hairy balls as well, before planting a small kiss on his belly. Karl then helped him climb onto a green chintz backless couch, creaking under his weight, hooded head bent down and chain flapping over the armrest. Once each of the twelve naked men was in place, asses—some smooth, some hairy, some black, some white—all in the air, their partners retreated to the line of seats on either side of the imperious Richard. Most took a filled glass and sat, legs crossed, expressions low like an Italian funeral. Only Richard was happy. He grinned at Lukas and I, then jumped out of his throne.

“It’s your lucky day, gentlemen,” Richard said, dropping his silk gown and revealing his tight muscled body, leather cuffs, and silver bracelet. He grabbed a wide gold goblet from a table and spun it between his fingers as he addressed his hooded guests. “After three months, four months, six months for some, you’ve each earned the right to have your cage off.” He scraped the edge of the goblet along some of their bare backs. “But first,” whimpers escaped from the hooded bodies. “Your husbands are going to sit here and watch you once dominant gentleman get fucked in the ass.” Shaking came with the whines; asses of men, powerful men, clenched tightly as Richard ran his fingers around their backsides.

Purchase Your Copy

Slaves Have No Right to Say No (The Berlin Tales #3)

Despite Mark's warnings, Peter accepts Tomas and Karl's invitation to join them for dinner at the exclusive Antinous Society on the outskirts of Berlin. While he's introduced to powerful moguls who could make his professional dreams come true, the realities of what men must do for membership into this ancient, elite world leave him wondering if it's worth the sacrifice. But Peter soon learns that sacrifice is the very right to say no.

The Berlin Tales are a collection of short erotic fantasies centered on the gay men who populate Berlin, the capital of kink.

Slaves Have No Right to Say No is a 13,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


Inside was more like a modern sex club than a Roman dungeon. Vinyl covered boxes, netted rigging and stacked black barrels beneath a dim red light created a sex-fueled atmosphere of twisting passageways that stretched deep into the darkness. Two distinct ways were laid out just beyond this wide entrance area through the plastic where half a dozen black hoods like myself milled around the three white-hood candidate members strategically placed in a receiving position.

Directly in front of me, kneeling on a vinyl bench was the man I’d noticed upstairs with all the tattoos on his chest. They also extended to his back; a large pair of detailed angel wings stared directly at me. The tattoo extended down to his ass cheeks with a gothic devil on one side and an angel on the other, both pointing towards his hole which waited for whoever might want. There were red vested servers here too. One scurried forward carrying what looked like an oil lamp. Without any warning, he inserted the tip of the lamp into the kneeling man’s rectum and tipped it up, then pulled it out and wiped the slick runoff from the spout with a damp towel.

Immediately, a tall Scandinavian man in a black hood like mine walked right up to the tattooed white hood guy, took his ample foot long cock in one hand and slid straight into the kneeling man. I didn’t even hear the whimper I expected, or even a scream as the black hooded man started thumping away.

It wasn’t actually easy to hear much because of the commotion over to the right. In a corner lined with rope and rigging, a barrel-chested Black man, a broad-shouldered white man and one heavy set Middle Easterner had a white-hooded, stick-thin Caucasian lad held over a barrel. This white hood had been the smallest guy of the lineup on stage. Barely a five-foot-five twink, he was completely stretched out. The broad-shouldered guy held onto his emaciated arms and had actually lifted the guy’s hood up to his nose so he could fuck his smooth cheeked mouth. Me and the few other black hoods milling around could all hear the young white hood horrendously choking on the top’s ample dick.

But that was probably because the Black guy at the back was ripping into his ass and shoving his tiny throat even deeper onto the front guy’s cock. The guy at the back had one heavy leg up on the barrel as his thick, tennis racket-like hands gripped white thighs like a couple of chicken drumsticks.

He was fucking the absolute life out of the guy in his hands. I’d never seen anything like it. Not even in the most messed up porn one finds when nothing else will satisfy but to see a twink utterly destroyed. Us watching could all see how thick the Black guy’s veiny dick was fucking him. In fact, although the bottom’s stomach was laid out across the barrel, one could actually see a slight bulge pop into his abdomen with every thrust.

The same could be said for the lad’s throat. The man at the front had amped up the pressure. He now gripped the white hood, still covering the bottom’s eyes, and violently fucked into his skull while phlegm dripped from the sides of his overstuffed mouth and even shot out his nose. The Middle Eastern guy meanwhile egged on his fellow tops, groaning along with them, pinching the bottom’s nipples, smacking his ass cheeks while gently stroking his own cock. I was worried that he wanted to double stuff the bottom lad when clearly there was no room at either end.

Purchase Your Copy

Servicing My Dominant Chastity Boss in His Office (The Berlin Tales #2)

Naive Peter takes up an offer from Tomas, a dominant older bear locked in chastity, to work at his major Berlin newspaper. But Peter discovers there's not much to the job he's been hired for. A fact exploited by Mark, a young American whom Peter knows has a secret too. Hoping to discover the truth behind Tomas' chastity, Peter sneaks into the editor's office where he's put into the strange position of having to please a dominant top locked in chastity. Tomas' young husband Karl helps Peter see there's more to their chastity and cuck relationship than meets the eye. In fact, there's an entire secret society Karl and Tomas are members of which could help make Peter's dreams come true...for a price.

The Berlin Tales are a collection of short erotic fantasies centered on the gay men who populate Berlin, the capital of kink.

Servicing My Dominant Chastity Boss in His Office is a 10,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


“I’m really grateful for this opportunity,” I said, sitting delicately down. “I’m excited. I want to make the most of it. And I’ll do everything I can to impress you.”

Tomas grinned. “You don’t have to sleep with me or my husband to be successful. This isn’t that kind of place and I’m not that kind of boss.”

“I’m not talking about work.” I stared into his eyes and the smile faded from his face. Not to a frown, but to a flash of desire. He closed the newspaper.

“Drink?” Tomas asked.

“I’d be delighted.”

He poured two neat whiskeys from the bottle atop the filing cabinet behind his desk. 

“Do you mind if I close the door?” Tomas asked.


He knocked it with his ample butt and sat down on the leather armchair, our knees close to touching as we clinked our glasses together.

“I really enjoyed last night,” I said, staring down the barrel of Tomas’ chest to the comfortable belly that sat out like a sultan.

“Good to hear. So did we. And I mean that, Peter. Not many men have made Karl scream like you did. Seems like you have quite the talent for pleasing those you’re with.” I felt a blush in my cheeks and a rush of blood to my cock. I nearly said I was only returning the favor, but quickly remembered Karl and I were supposed to have met in a bookshop, not balls deep in a dark steam room.

“Karl is really lovely. He texted me good luck this morning.”

“He’ll be a good friend to you, a good guide,” Tomas said. although it seemed strange. Like he was hinting at something far greater than what was already between us. A guide for what? Tomas gave me an odd look. “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to quit?”

I shook my head and drank quickly from the glass. “I’m not. Not at all. It’s just…” Tomas patiently waited. “I have to ask you about the chastity cage.” Tomas smiled like a sage preparing to impart wisdom. He drained his drink.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” Tomas said, a sheikh upon a throne, “there’s a lot of layers to this world. Often the most interesting people are the most complicated, don’t you agree?”

Purchase Your Copy

The Chastity Cuck of Kreuzberg (The Berlin Tales #1)

When twenty-six-year-old Peter moves to Berlin, he begins to explore his long-hidden slutty side. In the darkness of a Berlin sauna, he meets Karl, a young German married to Tomas, an older man and powerful newspaper editor who, despite his dominant nature, is locked in chastity. It’s not long before Peter is drawn into Tomas and Karl’s marriage to fulfil their cuck fantasies as he wonders about the secrets behind Tomas’ caging.

The Berlin Tales are a collection of short erotic fantasies centered on the gay men who populate Berlin, the capital of kink.

The Chastity Cuck of Kreuzberg is an 8,000-word short story.

Purchase Your Copy


I was a few steps behind, but he led me to a part of the sauna I hadn’t discovered yet, and wasn’t sure I would’ve found on my own. The dry sauna was near the showers, and the sandy heat wasn’t my thing. But he led me down a dark corridor that turned into a surprising six-man shower block, then a translucent door to the steam room. The twink hung up his towel outside and slipped in, watching me as I hung my towel up too. Unsure of whether to fully commit (the story of my life), I hung my own towel up and stayed under a cool shower for a good few minutes, trying hard to let the apprehension wash away.

Surprisingly, the steam room was empty. I wondered if the twink had evaporated, but then I noticed a dark door inside the steam room itself. I went into a stifling hot, pitch black room. It seemed to be an open space rather than a maze, but I staggered with my hands out just to be sure. Yet my eyes were useless in the hot steam and thick blackness. I had to listen, to taste the air. Without a doubt there was more than just the twink and I in this hidden place. In fact, it seemed to be the reason why the men I passed by in the corridors before disappeared into nothing. They were all here.

I felt a body next to me, large and hairy. My eyes adjusted to the man standing with his back to the steamy wall. He had his towel around him and was doing nothing. Deeper in I could hear the sounds of cocksucking. There was someone on their knees, and someone else jerking off into their mouth. Then I hit the back wall with a bench. It was too hot to sit, but through the steam I picked out another man, long armed and long legged, sitting on the bench.

I didn’t make it to the other side of the dark steam room from where groaning sounds and growing sights were also coming, because the tall man reached out a long hand and grabbed my cock. In the darkness there was no need for permission, and no chance to be rejected. He smacked my balls like a cat pawing string as I discovered the outline of his large dick laying against his thigh. I’d found what I never knew I wanted.

Passion overcame me. And the thrill of being alone and utterly unseen. Dropping to my knees on the hot floor, I tongued the tip of his cock, salty and thick, exploring the shaft with my wet lips and having him moan out loud as I did. Maybe this was a signal to however many others were here, the twink included, because as I worked his cock, the heat coalesced around me, as if the men were moving to the back corner of the steam room.

But I concentrated on sucking this ever-expanding cock. His balls were so heavy they rested on the hot tiles themselves, and it took both hands to twist and play with them. He liked that, lifting a heavy leg over my shoulder to draw me in closer. With his hand pushing the back of my head almost to the base of his cock, wiry pubes scratched my nose and it was getting harder to breathe. Eventually I had to retreat from his cock, the hot, wet air reflating my lungs. But he wasn’t letting me go.

I had to stand and stretch my back and click my sore knees, so his hand found my ass. He squeezed and slapped it, ringing the bell out to the men around who I sensed were nearer. I saw the door at the other end of the dark room, the crushed light flicking in the moving shadows of naked bodies. More seemed to be coming in than going out.

He was sitting forward now, jerking his cock as two thick fingers explored my hole. Perhaps he was content to do just that, but I had not come this far, over seas and mountains, carrying luggage and drinking from strange water bottles, to not take what I’d come for. Maybe tomorrow I would wake up feeling different. Maybe I would retreat back to my own world, but I couldn’t come all this way, come to Berlin to have sex, and run away the second it presented itself.

Purchase Your Copy