The dinner rush was hitting its peak.
Davey moved like a shadow through linen-draped tables, the hum of conversation and clinking glassware thick around him. The restaurant was upscale—white wine and veal specials, polished silverware, minimal lighting—and the guests dressed the part. Wealth, power, seduction: all three buzzed in the air, and Davey floated through it all, tray in hand, shirt neatly pressed, blond hair perfectly tousled, smile locked into place.
His feet ached. He hadn’t eaten since noon. He’d answered the same four questions about wine pairings at least a dozen times. But tonight, for some reason, he didn’t feel worn out. He felt sharp. Tuned. Like something was coming.
“Table twelve just sat,” the hostess whispered as she passed. “All men. Big dick energy.”
Davey nodded and made his way to the corner booth. It was set slightly apart from the rest of the room—dim, quiet, more private than the other tables. He approached with a practiced smile and a notepad in hand. “Good evening, gentlemen. Can I start you off with any—” He froze. Not visibly. Not in the way that would get him noticed or docked tips. But inside, something stopped cold and then rushed hot all at once.
Wyatt (or “Pup”) was seated at the inside edge of the booth, head bare, dressed cleanly but casually. He looked up with a soft smile, one Davey instantly recognized: quiet support. I'm here. You're okay.
Aidan sat beside him—relaxed in a dark button-down, arms draped along the back of the booth, exuding comfort and control. His expression was playfully smug and his eyes sparkled slightly, like he’d been waiting for this moment.
And across from them, sitting with one arm resting on the table and the other laid across the back of the booth, was a man Davey had never seen before—but instantly knew.
He was 53, his tanned face showing some lines. Handsome in a way that made Davey’s mouth go dry. Gray at the temples, beard cropped close, black t-shirt under a fitted jacket. His eyes were dark and calm, and between his nostrils was a small, silver bull-ring nose piercing that gleamed faintly in the low light.
Master Rick.
Davey hadn’t imagined the man’s face. Hadn’t let himself try. But this—this—was more than he ever expected. There was no smile on Master Rick’s face. Just a steady, interested gaze. His lips parted and in his deep gravely voice Master Rick spoke quietly, “Do your job boy. Serve us.”
Davey nodded, feeling his face flush and his cock begin to thicken. “Good evening gentlemen, my name’s Davey. I’ll be taking care of you this evening. Can I start you off with any drinks?” he asked, managing not to stumble.
Aidan spoke first. “Old fashioned for me. Neat.”
“Sparkling water,” Wyatt said, almost shyly.
Master Rick didn’t look away from Davey. “Glenlivet 18,” he said, “Two rocks.”
Davey nodded, scrawled notes he didn’t need to read, and walked away as casually as he could. But his heart was pounding. He’s hot. Like, unfairly hot. The bull ring should’ve been too much—but it worked. And that voice in person? Even more commanding. Even worse was the quiet way he sat—like he didn’t need to posture or fill the room. He simply was.
By the time Davey returned with the drinks, his hands were steady again. Trained. Professional. He didn’t flinch when Aidan met his eyes or when Master Rick watched him set the glass down.
“Anything to start with?” he asked.
“Steak tartare,” Master Rick said simply.
Pup deferred. Aidan added oysters. It went on like that. Davey took the order, left, returned, cleared, refilled. All mechanical. But inside, it wasn’t routine anymore. It was ceremony. Because each time Davey returned to the table, Master Rick was watching him—not devouring, not leering. Reading. Calmly. Like a man memorizing something important. No compliments. No signals. Just presence.
Davey served dessert—chocolate mousse for Pup, coffee for Rick, nothing for Aidan—and tried not to let his hands tremble when Master Rick said, “Thank you, boy,” after the plates were cleared. Davey was about to ask if they wanted anything else, but Master Rick just nodded once. “You’ve done well,” he said, voice low but distinct. Aidan dropped his napkin onto the plate. Pup smiled faintly.
Davey simply nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
And then they left. Just like that. Silent, powerful, without a backward glance.
Davey returned to the table a few minutes later, heart still hammering. He picked up the bill to run it through the system—and paused. Handwritten in small, confident script, right above the signature line:
11:00 p.m.
364 Hayden Street
That was it. No name. No explanation. Just time and place.
At 11 p.m., Davey stepped out of the rideshare, heart pounding. The warehouse on Hayden Street loomed at the end of a dim industrial block—brick façade, blacked-out windows, and a single bulb glowing above a steel door. No number. No sign. If you were meant to enter, you already knew. He wore what he hoped would please: a tight black tank top and sheer mesh shorts that clung to his hips, leaving nothing to the imagination. His curls were brushed, lips glossed, skin freshly smooth. He didn’t know if it was too much. He only knew he wanted to be wanted. And more than anything, he wanted the noise in his head to stop.
He knocked once. The door opened immediately. Pup stood in the doorway—hooded, harnessed, his lean body bare except for a black jockstrap and heavy boots. He tilted his head playfully and stepped aside.
Davey smiled. “Hey.” Pup gave a soft woof. Davey stepped inside.
The warehouse’s interior took his breath away. The ground floor opened into a vast, open-concept living space—warm wood floors, exposed steel beams, matte black trim dividing the space with clean lines. To the left: a sleek kitchen with black cabinets and gold hardware. Beyond that, a walnut dining table surrounded by mismatched vintage chairs. To the right: a sunken lounge with dark leather couches, a low-burning fireplace, and bookshelves packed with kink theory, queer memoirs, and philosophy. Aidan’s guitar leaned against the wall. Pup’s mug sat on the windowsill, pink straw still tucked inside.
Rick hadn’t just built a dungeon—he’d built a home.
Aidan rose from the couch, wearing only gray sweatpants, his massive, hairy chest on full display. He greeted Davey with a kiss, a firm hug, and a squeeze of his ass. “Looking sexy, son.”
Then came the sound of boots on stairs. Davey looked up. Master Rick descended a wide industrial staircase, the upper floors opening above them like a cathedral. He wore full leather: black chaps, polished boots, and a thick harness that framed his broad, silver-haired chest. His arms were veined and bare. A crop, keys, and a coil of chain hung from his belt. The bull-ring in his nose gleamed under the lights. He looked like power, distilled and made flesh.
He stopped in front of Davey, eyes raking over him. “You dressed for me.”
Davey swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” Master Rick nodded. “You chose well.”
The praise lit a fire in Davey’s chest.
Master Rick stepped close—close enough to smell the leather, the clean musk beneath it. “Now take it off boy. If I want you dressed I’ll give you something to wear.”
“Yes Sir,” Davey replied and quickly undressed, revealing his smooth, thin body; his cock already hard.
“Good boy. Now,” Master Rick said. “Let me show you the life inside.”
Davey followed without hesitation. Pup and Aidan fell into step behind them. As they climbed the stairs, Davey oogled Master Rick’s hard, tan, muscled ass. Master Rick continued, “The first floor is for life—conversation, meals, community. The second floor is for transformation. The third is for rest.”
The second floor unfolded around them: a vast, modular playroom, lined with red velvet curtains and divided into zones. There were benches, racks, cages, slings—every piece immaculate, intentional. Implements hung in symmetrical rows like tools in a chapel. At the far end, behind frosted glass, was the fitness center—clean, mirrored, minimalist. Mats, weights, a padded wrestling floor.
They climbed once more. The third floor was quieter, warmer. Three bedrooms—Rick’s, Aidan’s, and the shared room for the boys. Two full baths and a group shower with industrial tiles and multiple heads. Rick opened the shared room. “This is the room you’ll share with Pup, if you stay.” It was small but intimate. Twin beds, a dresser between them, notes pinned to a cork board. Harnesses on wall hooks, towels folded with military precision.
Back downstairs, Rick turned to face him fully.
“You’ll keep your job. You may keep your apartment—for now. But if you pass your final trial, we will offer you a place here. As one of us.” Davey nodded, chest tight. Rick’s voice dropped. “You’ll receive a monthly allowance. You’ll contribute with time, service, discipline, and honesty. You will obey house rules. You will not be owned.” He paused. Then locked eyes with Davey. “But you will be kept.” Davey didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Rick stepped closer, circling him slowly, his voice low. “Tonight, your final trial begins. It’s simple. You’ll come with me. Into the dungeon. You’ll listen. You’ll obey. You’ll give yourself to me—fully. There will be no safe word.” Davey’s breath caught. You may ask to pause. You may ask for explanation. But red is not an option. That choice is behind you. The next few hours are mine.” He lifted Davey’s chin, gaze intense. “If you give me all of you,” Rick said, voice like stone smoothed by time, “I will give you a place in my home.”
Davey’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Yes, Master.”
Rick stepped back, satisfied. “Then follow.”
The sound of boots echoed on the steel staircase as he led the way up to the second floor. The playroom glowed softly behind its curtains—waiting. Davey followed, his heart pounding behind his ribs, bare feet silent on the steps. He didn’t know what would be asked of him. He almost didn’t care.
The playroom glowed low and warm, red and amber light pooling across polished wood and leather. At the center hung the sling—black leather, wide and supportive, suspended from chains that gleamed softly overhead. It waited without menace. Without urgency.
Master Rick stood facing Davey, hands clasped behind his back. Aidan waited to one side, bare-chested, solid and calm. Pup knelt nearby, hooded and silent, a steady presence at floor level.
“This is the last thing I will ask of you tonight,” Master Rick said. “There is no performance here. No reward to chase. Only honesty.”
Davey nodded, throat tight. “Yes, Master.”
“Into the sling,” Master Rick said. “Arms open. Let them help you.”
Aidan guided Davey back, strong hands steadying him as the leather cradled his body. Pup moved in close, efficient and gentle as he secured Davey’s wrists and ankles, adjusting the height until Davey was lifted just enough to feel held—supported, exposed, unable to retreat. Suspended. Offered.
Aidan rested a hand on Davey’s forehead once the restraints were set. “Breathe, son. We’ve got you.”
Master Rick approached slowly, eyes never leaving Davey’s face. From a small pouch, he drew out clothespins—smooth, polished, deceptively simple.
“These will not punish you,” Master Rick said. “They will ask you to stay.”
The first pin closed against Davey’s nipple. He gasped—sharp, startled—then stilled. Another. Then another. Each placement was deliberate, spaced across his body, cock and balls so that awareness spread outward, until Davey could feel everything. His breathing grew shallow. His fingers trembled in the cuffs. Master Rick nodded at Aidan and Aidan caressed Davey's face and said “Open your mouth son.” Davey complied and Aidan fed the boy his cock.
Master Rick’s voice stayed calm, anchoring him. “You hide your fear behind compliance.” Click. “You believe being wanted means being useful.” Click. “You brace for abandonment even while you beg to stay.” Click.
Davey’s eyes burned. Tears slid across his face as he sucked Aidan’s cock through the pain. Aidan’s thumb brushed slow circles at his temple. “You’re here. Stay with us.”
When Master Rick finally began to remove the clothespins, he did it slowly—one at a time. He paused before each one, fingers resting there just long enough for anticipation to sharpen. “Stay,” Master Rick murmured. He slid the first pin free. The sting bloomed hot and sudden, flaring through Davey’s body. He cried out, releasing Aidan’s cock, back arching instinctively against the sling, breath breaking loose from his chest. Master Rick waited and nodded to Pup, who rose and fed his cock to the sobbing teen. Let the sensation crest and settle. Then another. The sting came sharper this time—bright, insistent. Davey sobbed openly now, no longer trying to contain it as he struggled to suck Pup’s cock. His body shook, not from pain alone, but from how present it forced him to be. “Yes,” Aidan said quietly. “That’s it. Breathe through it.”
Master Rick continued, unhurried. Each removal carried the same ritual: touch, pause, release—then the sharp burn that followed, blooming and fading, demanding Davey’s full attention. By the time Master Rick reached the last pin, Davey was trembling head to toe, chest heaving, eyes unfocused but open. Pup stepped back, pulling his cock from the boy’s mouth. Master Rick leaned close. “This is what it feels like when you stop protecting yourself,” he said softly. “When you let sensation replace fear.” He removed the final pin. The sting flared, then softened into a deep, humming warmth that spread through Davey’s body. He sagged into the sling, emptied—not hollow, but open.
Aidan handed Master Rick a bottle of lube and Master Rick lubed his fingers and then Davey’s trembling hole. Pup places a small plastic mask over the boy’s nose and turned on the flow of poppers. Master Rick quickly worked two thick fingers into Davey’s ass, causing the boy to groan with pain and pleasure. Aidan and Pup took turns feeding Davey their cocks while Master Rick continued to open the boy’s hole, working in three, then four fingers as the popper mask took full effect.
“He’s ready,” Davey vaguely heard Master Rick say, then he felt the ankle and wrist restraints being removed.
“Easy son,” Aidan encouraged as he and Pup helped Davey stand up. Davey saw Master Rick stretched out on a large cushion, stroking his enormous cock, as Aidan and Pup helped him to his knees.
“Crawl over here boy and ride my cock,” Master Rick commanded. “Show us how much you want to be here.”
Davey felt woozy from the pain, poppers and fingering, but he crawled over and pulled himself up, straddling Master Rick. He reached behind him and grabbed Master Rick’s 11 inch cock by the base and slowly sank onto it, letting the older man’s girth fill him with inch-by-inch of pleasure.
“Good boy,” Master Rick cooed, grabbing Davey’s waist and thrusting inside him. Davey felt renewed by the praise and pleasure of Master Rick’s cock and began moving his hips and bouncing to ride the man’s cock. Master Rick grabbed the back of Davey’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Then he looked over the twink’s shoulder and said “Pup.” Davey tried to look back but Master Rick kept his grip firmly on Davey’s neck and said “Eyes on my boy. Keep your eyes on me.”
Davey felt Pup’s hand on his shoulder and then the tip of Pup’s cock pressinging into his already full hole. Davey’s eyes went wide and Master Rick clamped his other hand over Davey’s mouth saying “Yes boy, yes you can.” Davey went completely still, then squealed into Master Rick’s hand as he felt Pup force his cock into his already full hole. Pup gave Davey a moment to adjust and then began to slowly thrust in and out, rubbing his cock against Master Rick’s.” Pup increased his speed, wrapping his hands around Davey’s throat and growling. Davey felt Pup fuck him harder and harder, chocking him to the point that Davey’s vision began to blur, until finally Pup let out a long, strangled moan and shot his load inside Davey.
Pup released his grip on Davey’s neck and Master Rick removed his hand from the boy’s mouth. Davey gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his face and onto Master Rick’s hairy chest. Davey felt Pup pull out of his ass and felt Master Rick kiss him gently before saying “Aidan.”
This time Davey didn’t struggle. He felt Aidan’s strong, comforting arm wrap around his chest and cried out “Fuuucckkk!” as Aidan shoved his thick cock into Davey’s ass next to Master Rick’s.
“So fucking proud of you son,” Aidan whispered into Davey’s ear and he fucked him. “I can feel Pup’s load inside you. Can you feel it Master?”
“Yes boy,” Master Rick moaned, “Both my boys feel so fucking good! Cum in him Aidan, fill him up for me!”
Davey felt Aidan pick up speed and moaned “Oh fuck my Daddy! Fuck me Master!”
Master Rick locked eyes with Davey, placing both hands on his face and said, “Such a good fucking boy! You belong with us! You belong to me!”
The praise went straight to Davey’s balls and he cried out as he shot five ropes of cum onto Master Rick’s hair chest. His hole clenched around the two cocks inside him and both Daddy Aidan and Master Rick grunted as they shot their loads together inside the teen twink. The three of them collapsing into each other, covered in sweat and cum.
Davey was so overwhelmed he began to cry. “Easy,” Master Rick murmured. “You’re safe. You did beautifully.”
“You did so good son,” Aidan added, caressing Davey’s sweat-matted hair.
Pup rose and pressed close, hands warm and steady on Davey’s calves, grounding him from below. He leaned his forehead gently against Davey’s knee—no words, just presence.
“Tell me where you are Sweet Boy,” Master Rick said, cradling the boy in his arms.
Davey swallowed. “Here,” he whispered. “I’m here.”
Master Rick nodded. “Good.” Master Rick placed two fingers beneath Davey’s chin, lifting his face gently. “You didn’t disappear,” Master Rick said. “You didn’t retreat. You stayed present in discomfort, in fear, in sensation.” He reached for the collar resting on the nearby table—thick black leather, a single silver ring. “That’s what I require from a submissive,” Master Rick continued. “Not endurance. Not obedience. Presence.” He fastened the collar around Davey’s neck. The weight settled, firm and real. “You have a place here,” Master Rick said. “In my house. As my sub.”
Aidan tightened his hold, pride unmistakable. “You’re home, son.”
Pup shifted closer, slipping his hand into Davey’s. “We’ve got you.”
Davey closed his eyes, breathing finally slow and even. The noise in his head was gone—replaced by warmth, weight, and hands that did not let go. He leaned into them, collared, grounded, kept. And for the first time, he didn’t wonder what would happen next. He already knew where he belonged.
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