The first week living with Master Rick, Daddy Aidan and Pup felt like a dream—at least, that’s what Davey kept telling himself.
He’d been collared, welcomed, praised. A place had been made for him. A bed, a towel hook, a name written in chalk on the cleaning schedule. Pup had cleared out a drawer just for him, that had been filled with underwear and jockstraps provided by Master Rick and Daddy Aidan, which were the only clothes he was allowed to wear in the building. Aidan had driven across town to help him pack up his old apartment. Master Rick had handed him a key to the building and said, “This is yours now. Treat it like you belong here.” So why, every morning, did he wake up with a knot in his chest?
It was Thursday. Again. A week since the final trial. Davey stood at the triple-basin sink in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, scrubbing the last of the breakfast pans. His shift at the restaurant started in an hour. He hadn’t had time to shower. He knew his work clothes were wrinkled.
Pup was probably doing his morning workout. Aidan was at work. Rick was in his office, silent behind the closed door. No one was mad. But Davey felt behind. All the time. It wasn’t that anyone had been harsh with him… well at least not in a bad way. Quite the opposite—Pup gave quiet, constant reassurance. Aidan checked in each night. Master Rick gave him nothing but consistency and clarity. But somehow, he was the one setting expectations he couldn’t reach.
It was like his body hadn’t caught up to the life he’d said yes to.
The sex, the ritual, the collaring—that had been exciting. Powerful. Real. But this… the rhythm, the structure, the weight of being kept every single day—this was harder. He was falling behind on his chores, which had earned a few ruthless spanking sessions administered by Pup under the supervision of Master Rick. He’d already dropped a shift at the restaurant because of exhaustion. He kept second-guessing his tone when he spoke to Master Rick. Last night, he'd cried during dinner cleanup and said it was just the onions.
He knew it wasn’t the onions.
The dishwasher clicked off. Davey opened it and leaned into the wave of heat, letting the steam hit his face as he tried to calm his breathing. The kitchen was still dim, the soft light from under the cabinets throwing gold against the black tile. He heard the soft thump of Pup’s boots on the stairs—quiet, deliberate, the way he always moved when he knew Davey needed space, not noise.
“You okay?” Pup asked gently, his voice low and warm.
Davey nodded too fast. “Fine. Just late.”
Pup didn’t answer right away. He padded over, naked except for the towel slung over one shoulder. His shaved head was damp from the gym shower, skin flushed, bare arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the counter beside Davey and looked at him washing dishes in his collar and jockstrap, “You’re doing a lot.”
“I’m doing enough,” Davey said—too sharp, too quick. The words came out like a reflex, and he winced immediately. “Sorry. I just— I need to get to work.”
Pup stepped closer. He reached out and ran his fingers through the back of Davey’s curls, slow and soothing. Then let his hand rest there, warm against the nape of Davey’s neck. Davey closed his eyes. “You don’t have to prove anything,” Pup whispered. “Not here. Not to us.”
Davey swallowed. “Tell that to the bathroom I forgot to clean on Tuesday.”
Pup smiled softly and moved closer still, his chest pressing lightly to Davey’s back, his soft cock nestled against his ass. He wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Davey’s shoulder. They stood there like that—steam rising around them, the world quiet.
“You’re not a disappointment,” Pup said. “You’re a new boy finding his rhythm. That takes time.”
Davey let himself lean back into the warmth of him, just for a second. The touch soothed more than it startled. “I don’t want to mess this up,” Davey whispered.
“You won’t. But if you do fuck up now and then, I get to spank you. And your bubble butt looks so pretty all red after a good spanking.” Davey smiled slightly and Pup kissed the edge of his jaw—just once, featherlight—then pulled back, brushing his thumb over the curve of Davey’s lower back. “If you need to change your tasks,” he said, “talk to Master. That’s what check-ins are for.”
Davey nodded slowly. “I know.”
Pup smiled. “You don’t have to carry it alone.” He gave Davey’s ass one last squeeze before heading back upstairs.
Later that night at the restaurant, near the end of Davey’s shift, the rush had died down. The bar glowed low and gold, the white noise of plates and glassware filling in the spaces between conversations. Davey leaned on the back counter, towel in hand, trying not to let the ache in his legs turn into resentment. He ran his fingers over his bare neck, hating that he had to remove his collar for work.
Callum wandered over, still in his apron, fresh off a smoke break, that lazy grin on his face—the one Davey used to associate with bad decisions and great orgasms. “You look like you’ve been chewed up,” Callum said, not unkindly.
“I feel like it,” Davey muttered, wiping his hands.
Callum leaned in just enough to drop his voice. “Playing bottom boy to those three older guys wearing you out?”
Davey raised a brow. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“I mean…” Callum smirked. “I’ve seen some of the bruises you try to cover.”
Davey’s face warmed. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“No judgment. Honestly, I think it’s kinda hot. Just don’t disappear off the face of the planet, man. You used to be fun.”
Davey smiled faintly. “I’m still fun. Just… different kinds of fun. Honestly I wish I could make money without having to work here or win the lotto.”
“Well,” Callum stretched, his shirt riding up slightly. “Have you ever thought about doing OnlyFans?”
Davey blinked. “What?”
“You’ve got the look,” Callum shrugged. “Twink energy, the curls, the puppy-dog eyes. I’m serious—guys would eat that up. Especially if you lean into the sub stuff. You could make decent money, like good money. Or just content for fun. You know, low-key.”
Davey stared at him. “Are you doing it?”
“I’ve posted a couple things. Solo, mostly. Testing the waters. It’s kinda hot, having people watch.”
Davey chewed his lip. The idea hit harder than he expected. Not just the money. The validation. The attention. The control—but also the surrender. “I’ll think about it,” Davey said.
Callum grinned. “Let me know. I’ve got a ring light and a good camera. I’m shooting tonight. Come to my apartment when our shift is done, you can see me in action.”
“I’ll think about it,” Davey replied.
A couple hours later Davey found himself at Callum’s apartment, which smelled like weed and laundry—Callum’s signature scent. Davey stepped inside, ducking under a hanging hoodie, dodging a pile of gym clothes on the floor. The place was cramped, lived-in, but cozy. One main room: a bed against the far wall, ring light set up beside it, blinds drawn tight. A worn sofa, scuffed hardwood, and two empty Gatorade bottles on the windowsill completed the aesthetic.
Callum grinned as he kicked the door shut behind them. “You cool to hold the cam?”
“Yeah,” Davey said, shrugging off his jacket. “Framing or freehand?”
“Start wide. Then move in slow, yeah? Like it’s just someone watching me without me knowing.” Callum stretched his arms behind his head and yawned. “You want a drink?”
“I’m good.”
Callum nodded, then peeled off his T-shirt in one clean motion. Davey stared openly, feeling his excitement grow. Callum’s body was lean, solid, and covered in a fine dusting of blond hair—everywhere. Chest, stomach, shoulders, arms. Not thick, not wild—just soft, golden, and constant. It glowed under the warm light, catching in the curve of his pecs, the tight line of his abs. He wasn’t gym-shredded like Aidan or cut like a dancer—he looked like he moved, like he did things with his body and didn’t worry too much about mirrors. Wiry strength wrapped in softness. His chest was broad, his shoulders slightly rounded. His nipples small and flushed from the heat of the room. A trail of hair led from his sternum down over his stomach and into the waistband of his briefs—simple gray cotton stretched across the swell of his hips. His thighs were thick with muscle, more golden fuzz, and a little scar on one kneecap Davey had forgotten about.
“You okay?” Callum asked, catching the stare.
Davey blinked, then grinned. “Just figuring out how much zoom I’ll need.”
Callum smirked. “You’re such a perv.”
“Says the one getting naked on camera.”
Callum flopped back onto the bed and pulled his briefs lower on his hips—but not off. “Tell me when you’re rolling.”
“Rolling,” Davey said, lifting the camera.
The lens framed Callum in soft light. He looked relaxed, sprawled across his sheets like a boy who’d just woken up from a very good dream. His hand drifted across his chest, fingers combing lightly through the hair there, then down his stomach in slow, casual passes. His legs shifted. He let one knee fall to the side, lazy and open.
Davey moved closer, easing the camera in on his face. Callum’s lips parted slightly. His tongue flicked across them, just once. He stared off past the camera and let his hand wander into his briefs, playing with his cock, getting himself hard. Davey zoomed in when Callum tugged his briefs off, allowing his fat, 7 inch cock to spring free. Callum spit into his hand and began to jack his cock, closing his eyes and biting his lip. Davey felt his own cock straining against his pants, remembering all the times he’d ridden Callum’s cock and how good it felt.
To Davey’s surprise, Callum stuck two fingers in his mouth, sucking on them and moaning before reaching down and pressing them into his hairy hole with a groan. Davey began to grope his own cock through his pants as he watched the hairy young stud finger himself and jackoff. Callum’s moans grew louder as his pace intensified. He jerked his cock fast and rough while slamming his fingers into his hole. “Oh fuck! Fuck!” he cried out as ropes of cum shot from his dick and landed on his furry stomach and chest. Callum pulled his fingers from his ass, dragged them through the cum on his stomach and then looked into the camera as he sucked his fingers clean. “You can stop recording now Davey,” he said with a grin.
Later that night, the dining table was cleared, bathed in the soft amber glow of the overhead fixture. The house was quiet in the way it only ever was during check-ins—intentional, expectant. Davey stood at the edge of the room, freshly showered, curls still slightly damp. He was naked except for his collar snug and warm against his throat. Master Rick sat at the head, reading over the household schedule. Pup was seated nearby, absently sketching in the margin of the ledger. Aidan leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching without comment.
Rick didn’t look up.
“Kneel sweet boy,” he said. The words landed calmly, without heat—but they carried weight. Davey swallowed and moved immediately, lowering himself to the rug in front of Master Rick’s chair. He settled back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, eyes down. The familiar posture steadied him even as his nerves fluttered. Rick finished reading the page, set it aside, and only then looked at him. “Something you want to say, boy?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Then speak.”
Davey took a breath. “There’s… an idea I want to bring to the house.” The room stilled—not tense, but focused. Pup set his pen down. Aidan shifted his weight slightly, attentive. Davey kept his gaze lowered as he spoke. “I’ve been struggling to balance everything. The restaurant’s been rough lately—physically, mentally. It’s not just the hours. I hate that I can’t wear my collar there, like I have to be someone I’m not… it’s how much space it takes up in my head. I’m exhausted. I keep falling behind on chores. I feel like I’m not fully present here.” Master Rick listened without interrupting, one hand resting loosely on the arm of his chair. “I know I receive an allowance,” Davey continued, voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. “And I’m grateful for it. But I want to make some money of my own. Something flexible. Something that lets me be me.”
Master Rick said nothing. He simply watched Davey kneeling at his feet, letting the silence stretch.
“I’ve been thinking about quitting the restaurant and starting an OnlyFans,” Davey added carefully.
“You’ve done this before?” Master Rick asked.
“No, Master. But I have someone I trust—a coworker—who does it. He offered to help me learn.”
Aidan stepped forward and rested his palms on the table. “So this isn’t about chasing attention,” he said calmly. “It’s about sustainability.”
Davey nodded. “And still feeling like I have something of my own.”
Master Rick leaned back slightly. “What are you asking from us?”
Davey exhaled. “Support. Oversight. Structure.” He hesitated, then added softly, “Permission.”
Master Rick turned his head toward Aidan. “Thoughts?”
Aidan smiled slyly. “You know I love to watch Sir. I can connect him with a couple of friends that have sites of their own. Experienced, ethical. They’d help him create safely.”
Pup spoke next, gentle but confident. “I can help with creating his accounts and editing and posting.”
Master Rick’s attention returned fully to Davey. “You will remain accountable to this house. If your responsibilities slip, production pauses. All content ideas come through check-ins. And if this begins to pull you out of presence here, we stop. Immediately.”
“Yes, Master,” Davey said.
Master Rick held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded once. “You have permission to begin. One-month trial. You’ll keep one shift at the restaurant each week until you know this can support you. If it doesn’t, you continue working.”
“Understood.”
“Pup will set up your account and post the three videos you made for me during your trials to get you started.” Master Rick stood, stepped closer, and placed two fingers beneath Davey’s chin, lifting his face just enough to meet his eyes. “Remember what your first priority is, sweet boy.”
“Yes, Master.”
Three days later Davey was nervous as he waited for the friend Aidan had arranged to come over. By the time the knock came, Davey was already stripped, steaming from the shower, wrapped in a towel and trembling just slightly from nerves. Aidan stood behind toweling off from their combined shower, where he’d douched and bathed his son to prepare him for the video session.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” Aidan said softly, his breath warm against Davey’s ear. “You just have to be a good boy like any other time.”
Davey nodded.
“You want this?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Then let us take care of the rest.” Aidan dried him gently, helped him into a loose mesh jock and a soft leather collar. He kissed Davey’s temple before guiding him downstairs.
The playroom on the second floor was already glowing. Pup had been working quietly for over an hour, adjusting lights, stabilizing the rig. He’d laid soft mats across the floor and positioned a cushioned bench at center. A ring light glowed at waist height for close shots, and a handheld camera was mounted and ready at the side.
Pup gave Davey a reassuring smile and a quick squeeze of the hand. “All set, sweet boy. Just breathe.”
At exactly noon, the knock echoed through the house. Master Rick opened the door himself. Kareem stepped inside. He was broad and heavy with muscle, his frame thick through the chest and shoulders, dark hair spilling from the collar of his fitted black T‑shirt. His arms were dense with muscle and hair, forearms corded, hands large. His beard was full and carefully kept, his eyes dark and steady—kind, but assessing. He greeted Aidan first, quietly, then turned to Davey. “Hello,” Kareem said, voice warm. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Davey nodded. “Thank you for coming.”
They spoke briefly—clear, efficient. Boundaries were named. Humiliation was welcomed. Kareem listened carefully, never interrupting.
“You want to be used with force, degraded.” he said.
“Yes,” Davey said. “I want to feel small. Chosen.”
Kareem nodded once. “I can do that.” He stripped naked, freeing a heavy 8 inch cock.
Master Rick watched the exchange without comment. When Davey gave his green light, Rick spoke. “Begin.”
The cameras rolled. And Kareem changed completely. His warmth vanished. His posture widened. His presence pressed into the room. “Kneel faggot.”
Davey dropped instantly.
“Lower,” Kareem snapped.
Davey sank further, knees spread, hands outstretched, head touching the floor..
“Look at you,” Kareem said coldly. “Pretty. Quiet. Waiting to be used like a whore.” Davey shivered. Kareem circled behind Davey, his gaze was slow and deliberate, openly appraising. He leaned down and ripped the mesh underwear off the boy. Davey gasped with a thrill.
“Of course you like this faggot,” Kareem continued. “Being looked at. Measured. Reduced to what you offer.” He stepped closer, looming. Hairy chest rising with a controlled breath. “Hands on the bench. Present yourself.”
Davey moved instantly. Kareem corrected him with sharp, uncompromising touches—fingers digging into his hips, forcing them wider. He put one foot on the bench.
“Worship my foot faggott.” Davey instantly leaned over to lick and suck the man’s toes greedily.
Kareem ran a hand down Davey’s spine, rough, possessive. “This is what you are when you stop pretending.” Davey whimpered. Kareem, switched the placement of his feet and leaned close, voice low and cutting. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he said between licks.
“For what?”
“For being allowed to worship your feet.”
“Are you hungry for my giant cock faggott?” Kareem asked putting his foot back on the ground.
“Yes Sir, please let me suck you giant cock!” Davey begged.
“Open your mouth little boy,” Kareem said to the teen, grabbing him by the bottom of the chin. Davey opened his mouth and Kareem spit in the boy’s mouth, then again on his face before ramming all 8 inches down the young boy’s throat. Davey choked and sputtered, by kept sucking, his eyes watering as Kareem began to slowly fuck his throat, while grabbing the boy by the ears. Pup zoomed in to get a close-up of Davey’s spit and tear-soaked face.
“That’s enough,” Kareem said, yanking Davey up by his blond curls. A strap was placed between Davey’s teeth—not gently. Kareem held his jaw, forced it in, then released him. “Quiet. Obedient. Exactly how you’re useful.” Kareem bent Davey over and spit on his fingers before rubbing it on the boy’s hole. The sexy Arab master lined his slobbery cock up and shoved it inside Davey without mercy.
“Ugghhhhh!” Davey cried over the leather strap in his mouth.
Kareem held the strap like a bridal and began pumping in and out of Davey. “That’s a fucking tight hole you have for being such a greedy little faggott. Don’t worry, it won’t be so tight when I’m done with you.” Kareem spit twice onto Davey’s neck and the side of his face as he continued to fuck him.
The humiliation was deliberate, layered, relentless—but precise. Kareem never rushed. Never lost control. Every word landed where it was meant to.
Throughout it all, Master Rick and Aidan watched from the shadows as Pup continued to move around to capture different angles and close-ups.
And Davey felt it—the weight of being seen by his three men. Reduced to a sweaty, spit-covered, hole for this strange hairy, muscled man to dominate and use. The thought of being so degraded in front of his new family and the way Kareem was jackhammering his prostate became too much and Davey moaned loudly as he shot his load over the bench.
“Fuck you faggott whore!” Kareem yelled, feeling Davey’s hole constrict around his cock, shooting his load into the boy. “Take my load faggott!” he commanded as he pulsed into Davey, filling his hole. Kareem still and caught his breath, then pulled out and slapped Davey’s ass before pulling his cheeks apart. “Let me see that load little boy.” Pup zoomed in as Davey pushed the cum out of his ass.
When the scene ended, Kareem stepped back immediately. The camera light clicked off. The shift was instant. Kareem knelt, his hands open. “Color?”
“Green,” Davey whispered, shaking.
“Good,” Kareem said softly. “Very good.”
Before Kareem could touch him further, Master Rick crossed the room. “I’ll take aftercare.” Kareem bowed his head slightly and stepped away. Master Rick gathered Davey into his arms, solid and sure, wrapping a blanket around him. Pup was already there with water. Aidan followed, steady hands at Davey’s back.
“That was so hot, boy.” Master Rick said quietly. Davey buried his face against Rick’s chest, breathing him in.
The rest of the day was spent lounging around the building. Daddy Aidan cooked dinner and around 10, Davey decided to call it an early night.
Davey was still asleep when the leash clicked. A sharp tug. His eyes snapped open as he felt a strong hand cover his mouth. Pup loomed over him — hood on, leather gleaming in the filtered light, his breath heavy through the muzzle. He was straddling Davey’s hips, thighs spread wide over the blanket, his boots braced on either side of the bed. His chest was bare, harness tight, the chrome ring at his sternum catching the morning sun.
A low growl vibrated from behind the mask.
Davey blinked up, startled — but not afraid. This was the first time Pup had taken advantage of their shared room.
The leash in Pup’s gloved hand trailed down from Davey’s collar, already clipped in place. He hadn’t even heard the click. Hadn’t felt the shift from warm sleep to performance until it was already happening.
The camera in the corner blinked red. Already recording.
Pup growled again, deeper this time. One hand pressed firmly against Davey’s mouth, pushing him down into the mattress. The other slipped under the blanket and yanked it back, exposing Davey’s naked body, his cock thickened slightly from being jolted awake.
“Time to make you my bitch,” Pup said, his voice low, filtered, mechanical through the muzzle. Davey swallowed, heart already racing. Pup shifted back, then flipped Davey on to his stomach with deliberate, aggressive strength. Davey gasped but didn’t move.
Davey felt Pup grab the back of his throat with one hand to push him down into the bed, while his other hand roughly worked some lube into his hole. Davey knew this would not be gentle.
Pup didn’t hold back, quickly slamming his cock into Davey, with a satisfied growl while Davey let out a scream of pain and pleasure. Pup shoved a gag into Davey’s mouth and then built up a quick rhythm of pumping his cock in and out of the helpless, gagged twink.
Pup shifted to hold Davey’s face down with his right foot, so he could twist Davey’s arms and pin them behind his back as he continued the brutal assault with his cock. He kept Davey pinned, spread, controlled — his hands unforgiving, his movements fast, his growls constant. He secured both of Davey’s wrists with one large hand and with the other began ferociously spanking Davey’s ass and lower back, never letting up with his pounding cock. He was brutal and merciless, every tear that streamed down Davey’s face, every yelp and plea that escaped his mouth pushed Pup closer toward the edge until with one final thrust and growl he emptied his load into the captive boy.
The camera caught everything.
When Pup finished, he backed away slowly, chest heaving. He stared at Davey for a long moment — his breathing ragged through the hood. He turned the camera off.
Then — finally — Pup reached up, grabbed the hood, and pulled it off. His shaved head was damp with sweat. His face flushed. But his eyes — soft. Human again. He knelt beside Davey on the bed and reached for his face with both hands, brushing the tears away. “Color?”
“Green,” Davey whispered with a smile. “Very green.”
Pup’s heart burst with warmth. “Good boy,” Pup said, brushing a hand over Davey’s curls, pushing them back from his forehead. “You did so good. I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” Davey shivered, not from cold, just the comedown. Pup pulled the blanket back up and tucked it around him. “Stay there. I’ll get water and wipes.” He returned a moment later, gentle and quiet now — wiping Davey down with warm cloths, kissing his body tenderly. They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Just existed in the afterglow. Then Pup lay down beside him, unmasked, naked, and warm.
“I like you like this,” Davey said softly.
Pup smiled. “Which part?”
“Both of them,” Davey said. “The savage beast and the gentle man.”
Pup kissed his forehead. “You’re safe now.”
“I was safe then too.”
They slept in each other’s arms, and morning became just another soft day in the house.
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