M4M kink writing. Control and transformation of men. 18+ only.

Tag: Dom/sub (Page 1 of 4)

Quiet quitter

Stephen hadn’t been to the top floor since orientation.

The elevator rose slowly, the numbers ticking upward in silence. No music, no chimes announcing each floor in turn, just the soft hiss of climate-controlled air and the faint smell of disinfectant. Stephen leaned against the brushed steel wall, hands balled in the pockets of his too-worn chinos. On his hip, his laminated ID badge had started peeling away at the corners.

The higher he went, the quieter it got. The HR offices were mostly empty. At least, that’s how it used to be. Except for open enrollment season when an army of temps descended on the office, it was usually just Candace the receptionist, always on her phone; Gloria from Payroll, who still printed everything; and Donna, the department head, whose greatest skill was scheduling meetings that solved nothing.

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Now available: Husband, Husband, Neighbor on Kindle

A gay chastity romance of temptation, denial, and surrender. 

Dylan and Paul are thick, fortysomething suburban husbands with a secret spice to their sex life: chastity play. It starts as a fun experiment. A steel cage, a weekend apart, and a playful sense of control. But when a blizzard delays Paul’s return from a business trip, Dylan’s self control begins to unravel. Every touch, every thought, and every hour alone in his cage makes him more desperate. 

Enter Mike, Dylan and Paul’s newly jacked neighbor with a smug grin and a home gym full of temptation. What begins as a harmless crush warps into something far more dangerous as Dylan’s sexual frustration distorts his judgment and his sense of loyalty. 

What happens when a kink meant to bring two husbands closer invites a third man in? When denial becomes devotion, and submission becomes a way of life? 

Equal parts erotic and emotional, Husband, Husband, Neighbor is a slow-burn gay chastity romance that explores what happens when desire gets caged, but obedience gets set free. Read chapter 1 on the site, and buy the whole story on Kindle.

Husband, Husband, Neighbor

Dylan and Paul are thick, fortysomething suburban husbands with a secret spice to their sex life: chastity play. It starts as a fun experiment. A steel cage, a weekend apart, and a playful sense of control. But when a blizzard delays Paul’s return from a business trip, Dylan’s self control begins to unravel. Every touch, every thought, and every hour alone in his cage makes him more desperate. 

Enter Mike, Dylan and Paul’s newly jacked neighbor with a smug grin and a home gym full of temptation. What begins as a harmless crush warps into something far more dangerous as Dylan’s sexual frustration distorts his judgment and his sense of loyalty. 

What happens when a kink meant to bring two husbands closer invites a third man in? When denial becomes devotion, and submission becomes a way of life? 

Equal parts erotic and emotional, Husband, Husband, Neighbor is a slow-burn gay chastity romance that explores what happens when desire gets caged, but obedience gets set free. 

Husband, Husband, Neighbor is a 10,500-word novelette. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+. 

The glove and the collar

The rectory was still, lit only by the faint golden spill from a desk lamp. Father Brad Whittaker sat at the edge of an old oak armchair, the burner phone hidden in his palm like contraband. The screen glowed in the dark, casting a blue light over his knuckles, which were white from the way he gripped it. 

He scrolled an app he swore he’d delete after just one more look. Profiles, a mostly anonymous and faceless parade of torsos and gear, harnesses and collars, whipped past. One profile pinged. 

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Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 3)

Catch up on part 2 of “The Client is Always Wrong” before reading on…

Part 3: Servant Leadership 

The rain came down in sheets, hammering the windows of the cozy townhouse tucked into the sleepy cul-de-sac like applause from the sky. Inside, it was all warmth: amber firelight flickering across hardwood floors, the soft drone of a streaming reality show half watched, and the smell of cinnamon from some fancy coffee drink Frank had insisted on making despite Mike’s teasing. 

Frank was curled under a blanket on the sofa, gray-socked feet resting on the coffee table as he scrolled through his phone. Mike, hair tousled from the shower, leaned back in the armchair with a dog-eared paperback, one finger holding his place while he sipped his room-temperature mug of “Mocha Minty” and tried not to smirk. 

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Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 2)

Catch up on part 1 of “The Client is Always Wrong” before reading on…

Part 2: Slow Correction 

The next morning, the lobby of Langston & Smythe Accountancy, Inc., was tranquil. The receptionist, Jason, sat blinking down at the steaming cup of coffee placed neatly on his desk. On the crisp cardboard sleeve, a smily face was drawn in permanent marker. Jason glanced up, perplexed, at the broad-shouldered man who had just handed it to him. 

“Uh… thanks?” he said cautiously. 

Brandon gave him what was clearly meant to be a warm smile. It appeared to have been copied from a YouTube tutorial on executive charm. “You’ve been so helpful this week,” he said, his voice more measured than usual. “Figured it was the least I could do to show my appreciation.” 

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Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 1)

Part 1: The Spark of Discipline

Living up to its pretentious name, Bistro Bistro had a self-consciously sleek ambience particular to the upper tier of the city’s dining scene: cool lighting, leather banquettes, waitstaff in minimalist black, and wine lists that read like doctoral dissertations. It was the kind of place Mike wouldn’t have chosen himself—he preferred something cozier, more homestyle cooking and less performance art—but tonight Frank was celebrating surviving a particularly hellish client project, and Mike, ever gracious, had let him pick the restaurant. 

They sat tucked into a semi-private alcove near the window, their fingers brushing across the crisp table linen as they shared a plate of olives and sipped on Tempranillo. Mike, as always, wore his quiet elegance like a second skin. With salt-and-pepper stubble, thin glasses framing his intelligent eyes, and a voice that rarely rose above a murmur, Mike knew how to disappear in a room unless he wanted to be noticed. Frank loved that about him. 

But tonight, someone else wanted attention. 

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Stored (Chapters 1 and 2)

Chapter 1: Caged Silence 

The silence roared in my ears. The rubber hood amplified my pulse, the hiss of filtered air slipping in and out of the breathing tube, and the subtle, maddening sound of latex creaking as I shifted the barest fraction of an inch. 

I was sealed in, encased from scalp to toe in black rubber, bent at the knees, and arms folded tight to my chest in the smooth, padded hollowness of a hidden chamber. Anyone glancing at it saw nothing more than a piece of designer furniture, a custom walnut bench beneath the living room window. Seamless, elegant, and dead silent. 

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