Clint is fucked again by his first lover, who keeps popping up in his life, and then pops into a film director's basement to pump him for information on his parents' murder while watching the director pumping young guy as he once did Clint.
Caleb appeared to be the perfect young man, always dressed neatly, his hair cut conservatively and always perfectly combed and he attended church with his parents, even singing in the choir. And it was all a mask.
He wanted to find that special scene, one he had experienced in the past, one that stroked his darkest desires, his fetishes, and he went in search for it.
A dissatisfied dom joins an exclusive BDSM club, but he must survive being a sub there before he can become a master. Can he withstand the pain and navigate the internal politics of this bizarre society?
Here's the next chapter in Jeff's story - the story was inspired one day when I was walking down a hotel room hallway and thought that any one of those doors could open, and I could be pulled inside before I knew what was happening. But how would someone get me out of the hotel?
I agree to get enslaved to myself (a kinky offshore trust) to keep from getting castrated, sold, and separated from my guys. I get some behaviour modifications that hurt. Strong Slave learns to be Weak Slave. Jon, my lawyer, takes charge -- even outruns me, then flogs & fucks me to master me.
"So this is it, mother-fucker .... we meet at last." Randy confronts the spectacular Hassan and takes brutal revenge on the man who once tortured and abused Mark. "Let's see how tough you are, stud. Now it's just us ..... man to man." The homoerotic trial of strength climaxes when the chained, broken Hassan sees a new arrival. "From the depths of his despair and degradation came a sob of recognition .... "Mark!"
He traced my chest welts with his hard calloused fingers. I cringed but didn't pull away from him. I had gotten a little rest, and amazingly I found his touch exhilarating again.
In another part of the same room Jeff, the junior controller, was in his own
predicament. When they stripped him and put him on the table it was
discovered that he was "concealing" a rather large butt plug.
As the ship pulled away from the dock and Folsom waved to Manfeld and company and the somewhat disappointed bruiser, he turned and headed for the Alexander Lounge. Half way there, though, he was accosted by the African potentate, wanting to claim his rain check on their romp on the Helios deck lounger, and Folsom thought, what the hell, and permitted himself to be carried off to the king's cabin.
Sten gave him a wicked smile as he extracted a mouth plug and popped it into Folsom's mouth, the American still stunned by the body and cheek blows. He then tied the plug off. Folsom wouldn't be doing any talking or yelling.
Folsom's mind was racing. In the horror of what he saw and the short time that he was in the room, could he possibly have overlooked seeing a thick and bloody dildo of some sixteen inches in length on the floor by the body? No, he couldn't imagine that being possible. He was a trained cop.
It was while contemplating this and being maneuvered in a sandwiched position between the other two, who had gone into a yoga-style seated position with their legs folded over each other's and sitting closely together, that it hit Folsom that he remembered what the porn star's movie specialty was.
This man's looking forward to the big game, but his wife teams up with his best pal to alter his plans with a bit of rope and electric penis discipline.