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

Tag: financial domination (Page 1 of 2)

On brand (My perfect dad 54)

Tom adjusted his tie for the third time, feeling the stares of shoppers as he walked into a store ominously called Suburban Savers. His tailored suit, a navy blue ensemble that hugged his tall, slender frame perfectly, stood out against the casual attire of the other patrons. He was acutely aware of the sweat forming at the nape of his neck, threatening to stain the crisp white shirt he wore beneath his jacket. Cody, meanwhile, was already live streaming their entrance, his phone held up high to capture every moment. The younger man, dressed in trendy, casual clothes, exuded confidence and charisma. His messy blonde hair and impish grin made him seem approachable, unlike Tom’s polished and somewhat intimidating appearance. 

“Hey everyone, we’re here at Suburban Savers with my new project. Say hi, Tom!” Cody said, turning the camera toward him. 

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Dollars and Spence

Cody perched uneasily on the edge of a sleek, black leather chair in Spence’s penthouse apartment, the city lights a distant, glittering backdrop through the expansive wall of windows. Rain streamed down the glass, and thunderclaps struck a startling counterpoint to the nervous beating of Cody’s heart. Spence’s great room was drenched in shadow, save for the stark white light of a single modern lamp and the occasional bolt of lightning. Cody always felt inferior in Spence’s presence, but being in Spence’s home only exacerbated the gulf between the mild-mannered software developer and his privileged, multimillionaire Master.  

The lamp cast an austere glow over Spence as he sat opposite Cody, his expression unreadable, his posture rigidly controlled, and his leather-gloved hands clenched into fists. Unlike Cody, who carried the unmistakable signs of a life spent in the sedentary glow of computer screens, Spence embodied the apex of privilege and grooming. His face, chiseled and symmetrical, held a piercing gaze with eyes like polished steel, sharp with intelligence but devoid of warmth.  

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Dad dates (My perfect dad 52)

Buzzwords, the city’s trendy local cafe frequented by university students and business executives alike, was always busy on Sunday mornings. The rush of early-morning errand runners had already come through, and with the after-church crowds now pouring in seeking coffee and brunch, free tables were scarce. Theo snagged one of the last remaining two tops by the front door and fidgeted nervously, awaiting his date’s arrival. 

The faint scent of starch emanated from his crisp, white, button-down shirt, and his caged junk twitched in his dark gray trousers as he scanned the room, wondering whether any of the men already here was his date. Each time the cafe doors opened, the April wind whirled around him, making him grateful for the open-necked shirt collar. The last thing he needed was to spend the date subduing a necktie determined to flap around in the breeze. 

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The first meet

I stood alone in the empty corridor. A few yards away, an ice machine rumbled. Further down, the elevator chimed. I jerked my head in its direction like a startled animal and waited to see if anyone had emerged from the vestibule. No one did. I willed my nerves back down.  

Horny online chats were one thing. Coming to Sir’s hotel room was another. I wanted this so badly, but my anxiety and apprehension threw up barrier after barrier to sabotage me. There would always be work projects that demanded my attention. There would always be friends who wanted to make plans at the last minute. I committed to dismissing every one of those mental roadblocks when they arose. I was proud of myself for getting this far.  

I already flaked on Sir once before. He graciously accepted my apology and backed off while I sorted myself out. It wasn’t long before I started messaging him again. He was patient yet firm in guiding me toward a second meeting. It was inevitable. I knew I wouldn’t get another chance if I flaked again. This was it. Now or never.  

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The Keypad

In this coda from “Poker with the guys,” Didrik explains how the Keypad transformed him from boss to slave. 

My name is Didrik, and I used to be the boss. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. I came into my new job full of ideas and initiative, but it didn’t take long for me to learn my true place in the scheme of things. I’d been on the job six months when my five employees—Bill, Doug, Jim, Lou, and Steve—became the bosses of me. Sure, they still follow my instructions and preserve the illusion of being my direct reports at the office. The truth, however, is far more complex. They own me, but they force me to keep up the façade of leadership. They tell me what they want from upper management, and I make it happen, no matter what. I arrive early and stay late to do my job and much of theirs. They set their hours and tell me what work they’re willing to do. Any work left undone is my responsibility. 

You might be wondering how I ended up so deeply under their control. You might also ask what their hold over me is. Why do I continue to comply, even as it makes my personal and professional life increasingly difficult? The answers to these questions are equally complex. 

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Poker with the guys, part 3

The story concludes from part 2 of “Poker with the guys.”

Time slowed to a crawl. Each pace down the hallway felt a mile long. With their large, rough hands, the guys placed steady pressure on Didrik’s shoulders and pushed him toward the bedrooms. Didrik could hear his heartbeat pounding in time with his footsteps. His cock stiffened. He adjusted his gait to lessen the friction against his pants, but the strange walk caught the guys’ attention. At the end of the hallway, Doug reached around from behind Didrik and stroked his erection.  

“Well, well, well,” Doug said. The unlit cigar between his clenched teeth gave his voice a raw, menacing edge. “Looks like boss boy is enjoying himself.”  

Steve stood in the doorway and pulled Didrik closer by his chin. “How about that? You excited, boy?”  

Didrik nodded. “Yes, Sir. Sirs.”  

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Open House (excerpt)

The following excerpt is from Open House, which is available exclusively for purchase on Kindle.

“Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, I’d prefer to keep this strictly business, if you don’t mind. I’m not the same person I used to be when we—”

Jordan took slow steps toward me. My voice trailed off as he got closer. He had no more than three or four inches on me, but his attitude might as well have added another foot. He firmly clenched my chin and forced me to look up at him.

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Open House

Despite their opposite personalities, Connor and Kyle have a happy marriage, and they’ve decided it’s time to buy a place together. Their differences have made house hunting a challenge, but after months of searching, they’ve finally found something they both love, and they agree to check it out.

Connor’s excitement gives way to anxiety when he meets Jordan, the listing agent. Jordan isn’t exactly Connor’s ex, but the two have a history. The unexpected meeting reawakens Connor’s long-buried, secret fetish for financial domination. The kink becomes impossible for him to ignore in the face of Jordan’s magnetic superiority and increasing demands for cash. As Connor and Kyle navigate the homebuying process, Connor’s double life exerts increasing pressure on his bank balance and his marriage.

Open House is a 7,300-word short story. All content in this story is fictional and describes activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Poker with the guys, part 2

The story continues from part 1 of “Poker with the guys.”

Thirty minutes later, Didrik pulled into the driveway of a nondescript ranch house at the end of a dead-end suburban street, exactly the type of place he imagined someone like Steve living. The guys’ firm handshakes and offers of whiskey and cigars put Didrik at ease, and after playing a few hands, he felt less like their interloping boss and more like one of their peers. 

“Hey, do we have any more chips?” Doug called from the kitchen during a snack break. 

“Don’t ask me,” Bill said. “Jim was supposed to do this shopping this week.” 

“No way, man,” Jim said, returning from the garage with a fresh bottle of whiskey and a bag of ice. “I mowed the lawn this week. It was Steve’s turn to go shopping.” 

Didrik was confused and intrigued by the conversation. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You all… live together?” 

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Poker with the guys, part 1

Didrik liked his job. It was challenging, the pay was great, and it was a bit of a coup for an early-career guy like him to land it. He was only 29, and he’d never managed a team before, but his years of experience with SalesFarm, the software platform the company recently adopted, had won him the job. 

He was young, full of energy, and eager to prove himself. There was just one problem: He didn’t fit in. 

When he was introduced to his team on the first day, Didrik expected to meet a group of recent college grads, with maybe one guy in his thirties who’d changed careers. Instead, he found himself awkwardly shaking hands with Bill, Doug, Jim, Lou, and Steve. Every guy he managed had at least 15 years on him, and their attitude in the workplace was unorthodox, to say the least. 

A pair of aces on top of a fan of US dollar bills
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