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

Tag: Master/slave

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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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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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+.

The handshake

Harry tapped his fingertips against his desk, growing more impatient with each passing minute. He’d never had to wait ten minutes for an employee to respond to his emails, and the lack of response had gone from inconvenient to irritating. He scrolled through the list of his direct reports on the company’s instant messenger client, and his brow furrowed when he saw a small, yellow circle denoting inactive next to each of their names and portraits. 

“It’s ten-thirty in the morning,” Harry said to himself. “Where the hell is everybody?” 

Close up of two men shaking hands
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Courtesy call

Marc’s hands trembled as he reached for his cell phone. As soon as he had it safely in his sweaty palm, a pair of gloved hands clamped onto his shoulders and pulled him roughly back into his chair. Marc sighed with pleasure as the scent of Master’s leather gear filled his nostrils, and the sensation of Master’s hands on his naked body sent waves of arousal radiating outward from each point of contact. 

The phone continued to ring, but Marc hesitated to answer. He felt awkward taking this call while sitting naked in his Master’s dungeon. It was a further step in blurring the lines between facets of his life that were, until recently, strictly compartmentalized. Master deserved credit for blurring a lot of those lines Himself, and Marc had a hunch that the bank’s urgent requests to speak to him might be related to his new status as Master’s slave. 

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Reinforcements (My perfect dad 38)

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

Out in the real world, I was usually invisible. I preferred it that way. When no one is paying attention to you, there’s no one to disappoint. No one makes your life miserable just because they’re bored and they’ve decided to make you their free entertainment. At my job, I was just another junior copywriter, one of a dozen laboring away in identical cubicles. At my favorite bookstore, I was just some brainy nerd who knew everything there was to know about the Diet of Worms. In my group of friends, I was the quiet one who always showed up on time and who always left behind extra cash to supplement everyone else’s embarrassingly small tips. In the real world, I was ordinary and unremarkable. Maybe even forgettable. 

But at home, I was Master Paul, the young, dominant owner of three hot, submissive, older men. Every morning I woke up to one of them gently kissing Me awake, while another ironed My work clothes and the third prepared breakfast. Everywhere else, I was just another mild mannered twenty something with too many student loans and a goatee that never quite grew in right. But here, I am the Master, and what I say goes. They’re all 20 years or more My senior, and each of them is a respected professional in their field. But at home, they’re My property. 

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When Sir became Son (My perfect dad 34)

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

The atmosphere at Buzzwords was not what Fred was used to. Everything from the music to the menu to the uncomfortable chairs screamed too many things to him. Too trendy. Too cool. Too youthful. Easily the oldest person in the café by two decades, Fred felt like an anachronism and like everyone in the place was staring at him, judging him. “Who’s the old guy at the corner table?” he was certain they were thinking. All he wanted to do was leave. 

And yet he remained seated at the table by the restrooms, just as he’d been instructed to. Every few seconds, Fred checked his phone, but there was no message. His breath caught in his chest as he re-read Sir’s instructions. 

Man sitting in chair at cafe with back to camera
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