“So he’s just going to watch?” The man, call him Marcus (Kevin was vague on his name because it hardly mattered) stood with his arms crossed and a guarded expression on his face. He had a nice physique, big and burly and toned, his skin a glowing amber brown and his eyes dark with suspicion. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Petey confirmed.
“You’re not going to tie him up or nothing?”
“No need to. He knows his place, don’t you, sweetie?” Petey blew a kiss in his direction. Continue reading
This story features Blake and Vadim from Pledged, but it can be enjoyed as a standalone. Content warning for harsh S/M including CBT. If you don’t know what CBT is, it might not be for you!
Technically, Blake made it to the Delta Iota Kappa house in plenty of time. He hung out on the stone wall in the courtyard with some of the guys from his pledge class, whiling away the last few minutes before the mandatory house meeting. November had the sun fading quickly, a visual reminder that the clock was ticking. Xiang stood up with a joke about the consequences of being late, and rather than follow him inside, Blake dallied long enough to stroll into the meeting so far past starting time that his tardiness couldn’t help but be noticed. His goal? To receive exactly the consequences Xiang had joked about.
Today that goal would be realized. Blake was about to be paddled. Continue reading
Content warning: this story contains adult incest
Fangs and claws were great for taking down prey, but for skinning and butchering, human hands worked better. In Nor’s twenty-five years on earth, he’d butchered maybe two hundred and fifty deer, so he made quick work of this one. It was a beaut, though. His stomach growled just looking at it, but a good alpha didn’t eat until his pack had fed, and Mama and Papa had raised him to be a good alpha. Someday he’d have a mate, pups, maybe a whole pack, and he wanted to be worthy of them. Continue reading
I meet myself at a keg party.
Leaning against a counter in an over-bright frat house kitchen, a red Solo cup of the usual half-warm, half-flat, thoroughly-awful beer in hand, listening to my bestie Lydia babble about all the babes in the room as I scan it in pursuit of my own next victim, I see myself. Not in a mirror, though it almost could be, but in a man. Continue reading
Content warning: this story includes instances of dubious consent
I first realized my wife enjoyed a bit of nipple pain early in our courtship when my teeth grazed her nipple and she moaned. I’m not slow to jump on anything that turns a woman on, so I made a point of adding a little rough nipple play into most of our sessions. I soon learned that there was mmm-pain and there was ouch-pain, but figuring out which action caused which re-action was trickier.
I bought the first pair of nipple clamps for our second anniversary. People tell you that sex levels off after you get married, and they aren’t wrong. The only time I felt that old spark from her was when I spent some time biting her nipples, but there were positions where biting wasn’t feasible, and I worried I’d lose myself in the moment and bite one right off. The harder, the better from her point of view, but I didn’t want a wife with one nipple. Continue reading
This story features Jack and Maddox from Deep Under. Although it can be read as a standalone, it will be more enjoyable if you’ve read Deep Under. Please use the Jack&Maddox tag to see all Jack & Maddox epilogues.
The package was waiting for Jack when he got home—a box addressed to Maddox, graced by a Post-It note on which Maddox had written the words Happy Anniversary.
No wrapping paper, no card. Typical Maddox.
Jack ran his thumb over the Post-It note, knowing Maddox had touched it. This assignment had been a rough one—long and relentless, with little downtime and no way to communicate. He’d managed to get an occasional message sent home, but there hadn’t been any way for Maddox to send one back.
It’d been three weeks since he’d been touched by his lover, almost that much since they’d had a chance to speak, and Jack was hungry to see him again. But in the meantime, there was a box. Continue reading
His Boy Alex is a long-term, cock cage-based M/M chastity story told in a series of blog posts by T. M. Chris. To read online, use the link to go to the first post and click forward from there. Newsletter subscribers can download the entire story in one file by clicking the icon to the right.
Alex has been a very naughty boy, as he’ll tell you himself in the form of a series of blog posts as he and his boyfriend Graham develop a relationship based on chastity.
Alex knows he deserves everything that’s happening to him, but that doesn’t make him happy about it.
Gannon eyed the white couple walking towards him appreciatively. The bigger man had his arm slung tight around his boyfriend, pulling their heads together to speak directly into his ear. They were beautiful—beautiful individually and beautiful together. Not for the first time, he reminded himself how lucky he was to live in a place like San Francisco where two men could walk down the street obviously enraptured by each other while another man enjoyed the sight.
His complacence was shattered a moment later when the big guy said hey, arresting his movement as they passed each other. Worried that he’d been eye-fucking two guys who weren’t gay after all—who were the type to take offense at being eye-fucked—he almost didn’t stop, but the big guy was smiling, not scowling, so he did.
“Hey,” the guy said again. “I got a proposition for you.” Continue reading
The Devil surveyed the man in front of him: slim, short, blond, powerlessly naked against the looming bulk he’d assumed for purposes of intimidation, but not intimidated. The man–Gavriel, his paperwork said–stood strong but not defiant with his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, sneaking little peeks up through his lashes at the magnificent manifestation of evil before him rather as though it turned him on.
This would never do. Continue reading
On the first nice day of March, it was inevitable that the quad would be crowded, that students would line the low stone wall that ringed it, jostling for position and joking noisily. Warmer weather meant that they bounced off each other with smiling gibes instead of hissed warnings as they made their way across the unevenly-paved square. It also meant that the sun was high and bright, glaring off the white stone as it peered over the spire of the administration building.
All of which meant that when Archer looked up in response to a shouted “heads” to find a frisbee coming at him, he tripped, resulting in both the frisbee bouncing off his forehead and his books spraying across the quad. Given the current set of circumstances, that fall was only to be expected and had nothing to do with the row of jocks showing off their bulging biceps in t-shirts. Continue reading