Boot & Foot Worship
The heavy front door clicked shut in the Belfast terrace. I stood over Robbie, already on his knees, caged and trembling. “Ready to disappear for Daddy this weekend, boy? Zero privacy. Every camera watching. Collar ready to shock. Phone fully mirrored.”
Chastity
Secret office tasks, plugged meetings, humiliating videos, and a brutal punishment weekend locked in a heavy cage with a urethral insert. By the time Erik finally unlocked him and fucked him senseless, Alex was shaking with need and devotion.
Humiliation
In the rain-slicked Sheffield loft, soft machinist Ross leaks under my piercing blue stare, body beautifully marked for Daddy. I claim him deep in my well-worn boots, stretching and breeding him eagerly until he begs for more.
The Soho bar pulsed with Friday-night energy, bass-heavy music vibrating through the sticky floor. John stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his mates at a high table, nursing a pint and trying to act normal. Under his tight black jeans, the steel chastity cage kept his cock painfully trapped.
James (24) and Edward (25) are a young couple who recently moved to Brighton. While their relationship is solid, both have long harboured secret submissive fantasies...
Rugged Norwegian alpha Erik, 37, muscles like forged steel, piercing blue eyes that make bois leak on sight. Cute Oslo twink nurse Daniel moves next door, needs driving lessons...
Aaron had been texting me for weeks — the desperate young accountant from the suburbs, just fifteen minutes away, flooding my phone with needy pleas for Daddy...
The gym lights hummed low, the clang of weights fading into echoes as the last stragglers shuffled out. It was past 10 PM, my favourite time: when the place emptied, leaving just the sweat-soaked mats and the heavy air thick with musk. I wiped down the bench press, my piercing
Cliffside villa, Lake Garda, 40°C inferno. Daddy teases his twink boi with denial, lingerie, toe worship... until a cherry lollipop melts in his hole, glazed in cum.
I lay there in the dark, heart thundering like war drums in my chest. Thirty-two years old, a pathetic sub faggot who’d been leaking pre-cum all week since Erik’s message. “Gate and door unlocked at 10 pm”. Those piercing blue eyes in his pic had me edging for
Sissy
Calum had always been the epitome of quiet competence: thirty years old, the IT whiz at our London research lab, fixing servers by day while burying his late-night secrets deep. I’d caught the signs; frantic browser history wipes after shifts, those smooth-shaven legs peeking from his joggers, the furtive