Ballbusting Fights
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A Crown of Sweat and Tears
Dadicus
The neon sign flickered SINNER'S DELIGHTS with a couple of letters on the fritz. Jose hadn't been kidding. From the outside, it looked like any other adult novelty shop in this part of the city, tucked between a pawn shop. The bell jingled as I pushed the door open, the air thick with the smell of cheap plastic and strawberry lube. A clerk with more facial piercings than sense looked up from behind a glass case full of… well, things I wasn’t here for. “Help you find something?” he asked, not bothering to sound interested. “Just browsing,” I said, my eyes already scanning. Jose said the entrance was in the back, past the DVDs and the lingerie. I nodded to a beaded curtain in the rear corner. “That lead to the stockroom?” The clerk shrugged. “Private party. Members only.” I flashed him a grin that didn’t reach my eyes. “My membership’s in my fists. Which way?” He hesitated, then jerked his thumb toward the curtain. “Stairs are behind it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Dadicus
I pushed through the beads. Behind them was a heavy metal door, slightly ajar. The sound hit me first... a low, rhythmic thump of bass, the roar of a crowd, and a smell that was all sweat, testosterone, and cheap beer. A steep, narrow staircase led down into a haze of colored light. Hot. Sexy. Raw. Jose’s words echoed in my head. He wasn’t exaggerating. The basement was bigger than I expected, a converted warehouse space with exposed brick and pipes snaking across a ceiling stained yellow from years of smoke. The place was packed wall-to-wall with men... shirtless, sweating, eyes glazed with a mix of lust and aggression. They were hollering, shoving, sloshing drinks. And in the center of it all, under a rack of spotlights, was a professional-grade wrestling ring. And in that ring was him. Dallas Jordan. The champ. He moved with a lazy arrogance, soaking in the chants.
Dadicus
A big guy with a clipboard... the manager, I assumed... was standing by the ring steps, barking at someone. I made my way over, the crowd parting slightly as I moved. I wasn’t small, and the look on my face said I wasn’t here to watch. I tapped the manager on the shoulder. He turned, annoyed, then did a double-take. “Help you?” he yelled over the noise. I jerked my chin toward the ring. “That the champ?” I ask. Manager respawns “That’s Dallas Jordan. Reigning, defending, undisputed.” He puffed his chest out like he’d built the man himself. “Looks like he’s got no one to play with,” I said, nodding at Dallas, who was now stretching against the ropes, showing off for the crowd. “We got a queue. You can sign the sheet, maybe get a shot next week if you’re lucky.” I leaned in closer so he could hear me clearly. “I’m not here to sign a sheet. I’m here because a friend told me this was the real deal. That ring looks empty to me. My flight back to Puerto Rico leaves tomorrow. I’m not waiting for ‘next week.’” I looked past him, straight at Dallas in the ring. “Is he just for show, or can a man actually get a fight in here?”
Dadicus
The manager looked me up and down, a calculating glint in his eyes. He saw money, maybe. Or just a spectacle. “You’re serious?” “Do I look like I came down here to shop for dildos?” I shot back, already pulling my shirt over my head. “Tell your champ someone’s here to take his spot. Tell him Dadicus is in the building.” I tossed my shirt onto the manager’s clipboard and started working on my belt. The crowd nearest us had caught on, a murmur spreading. Eyes were turning from the ring to me. Good. Let him see. Let everyone see. I was done watching. It was time to see what this “undisputed” champ was really made of as i start looking for the rest of my gear in the duffle bag.
Dallas Jordan
I’m standing in the middle of the ring, my absolute favorite place in the world. Here, I have no stressed of work or life, just a place to take out my anger and frustrations on the poor souls that enter the ring with me. I’m in my red briefs and black boots, stretching against the ropes and chatting with some of the regulars who come every weekend to watch me put on a show. These guys have turned into my own posse, attending every fight, chanting along with me, taunting my opponents with me. I love making them proud and I find myself trying to humiliate and destroy my opponents to no limits just to make them proud.
Dallas Jordan
I can see a scuffle going on with the guy who organizes all of this and some new punk I’ve never seen before. I usually get a list of challengers ahead of time so I have some time to study my opponents strengths and weaknesses and boy do I love to exploit those weaknesses. The manager walks towards me and enters the ring, steps through the ropes and whispers in my ear, letting me know the challenger list has changed and they are squeezing someone in that’s visiting the city. I’m obviously annoyed but I don’t let it show on my face, just nod my head in confidence and flex my biceps for my boys.
Dadicus
I watch it all from the corner, my back against the cold brick wall as I get ready. My eyes are on you, Dallas Jordan. The manager is whispering in your ear, and I see it... the slight twitch in your jaw, the way your eyes narrow for just a fraction of a second before you paste that confident smile back on. You’re annoyed. Thrown off your game because I wasn’t on your precious list. Perfect. I turn my attention to my gear. First, the yellow briefs. They hug me tight, leaving little to the imagination, just how I like it. Then the white boots, laced up snug. The white knee pads follow, strapped securely. Finally, I start wrapping my wrists with the tape, each rotation methodical, tight. I crack my neck from side to side, then roll my shoulders, feeling the muscles warm and coil. The manager has walked away from you now. Our eyes meet across the crowded room. He gives me a single, sharp nod. It’s time. He grabs the mic, and his voice booms over the speakers, cutting through the noise. "Ladies... and let's be real, GENTELMEN... we have a special treat tonight! Our challenger comes all the way from Puerto Rico! A man who knows his way around a televised ring... put your hands together for the one and only... DADICUS!"
Dadicus
The roar that follows is split. Half the room chants your name, "DAL-LAS! JOR-DAN!" a loyal, furious tide. The other half erupts into surprised confusing that I'm here, cheers and whistles... I hear a scream, "Dadicus, we love you!" I smirk and shoot a wink toward the voice. Another voice cuts through, "You're gonna get fucked, pretty boy! Welcome to the underground!" I just smile wider. Let them talk this is not my first time and will not be my last. All of it is just noise to me. I start my walk to the ring. Hands reach out from the crowd, touching my arms, my chest, my back. I let them. For tonight, I'm part of their spectacle. Their energy fuels me. I reach the ring ropes. I plant my hands on the top rope and vault over, landing light on the canvas, right in your space. The ring feels alive under my feet. The manager is still talking. "...and tonight, by special agreement, this will be a NO HOLDS BARRED match! The winner takes the championship... and the loser to do with as he pleases!" A hungry gasp ripples through the crowd.
Dadicus
The ref steps between us, doing a perfunctory check. He pats my gear, his hands lingering a bit on the tight yellow fabric. I let him. In a no-holds-barred match, it's never smart to make an enemy of the ref. Then you're in my face, your body heat mixing with mine, the smell of your sweat and pride thick in the air. You look me up and down with that champion's smirk. "Hope you're ready for the shift from champion..." I grunt, my voice a low growl meant for the people to hear "...to fuckboy." I hold your gaze, letting my own smirk settle into something colder, more dangerous. My eyes drop pointedly to the Pac-Man tattoo on your lower abs, then drag slowly back up to yours. I pull back, settling into my stance, knees slightly bent, hands open and ready. The ref is shouting, but his words are just static. My world has narrowed to the six feet of canvas between us, to the man in front of me.
Dallas Jordan
I hear our names called and I get the typical roar that I’m used to. One fan calls out for you, I look over at them and smirk, knowing I’m about to humiliate his hero. I stare you down as you walk to the ring, seeing your muscles bounce with every step. I’ve been big guys before, many guys bigger than me and they all fall the same. I step towards the center of the ring, listen to the ref give the rules. I’ve never been worried about losing my belt, I could not care less about it. I’m here for the thrill of the fight, to watch a grown man beg and plead, begging for my mercy. To listen to him squeal when I shove my fat cock inside him, the gags coming from his throat. That’s what fuels me, that’s what’s in store for this beast in front of me. I get in your face, listening to your taunts as you try to get in my head. “I’ve always been a fuck boy and a champion, you’ll be screaming my name soon enough. Hope you don’t have a flight back to Puerto Rico cause you’re going to be my Latin bitch forever” I grin and wink, push a foot back getting into my stance ready for the ref to get this started, getting energized by the roar of the crowd.
Dadicus
You push a foot back, settling into your stance, energized by the crowd's roar. Good... Stay overconfident. The ref is shouting final instructions, but I'm not listening to him. My focus is on your center of gravity, the slight shift of your weight, the arrogant glint in your eye that says you've already won. "Hope you don't have a flight back," you say, your voice a promise of ownership. My smile doesn't reach my eyes. It's a cold, thin line. "Let's get this started," I say, my voice flat. As you settle into your stance, I take a step forward. Then, I do something simple. I extend my right hand towards you, palm open, as if offering a sportsmanlike handshake before the bell rings. I see your eyes dart down to the offered hand, a flicker of confusion or contempt crossing your face. It's the split second I need.
Dadicus
Your mind is processing the gesture, your body hesitating. Before your brain can send the signal to react, my body is already in motion. I pivot on my left foot, and my right leg snaps up in a vicious, piston-driven kick aimed with surgical precision right between your legs. The thud of impact is sickening, audible even over the crowd's noise. Your eyes blow wide with shock, then instantly screw shut in agony. You double over violently, your hands flying instinctively to cup your shattered pride.
Dadicus
There's no mercy here. No pause. This is no-holds-barred. I'm already moving. As you fold forward, I step in close. My left arm snakes around your head, locking under your chin and against the back of your skull. With your balance gone and your world narrowed to white-hot pain, you offer no resistance. I clamp down tight, and throw my weight backwards. Your head has nowhere to go but straight down, putting all my force into the DDT CRACK!!!
Dadicus
The sound of your skull meeting the canvas is a dull, final thunderclap. The ring shakes from the impact. I don't release the headlock. I roll with you, staying on top, my lips close to your ear as the crowd's roar turns into a shocked, buzzing static. "You talk about making me scream your name," I whisper, my voice a low, venomous hum that only you can hear amidst the chaos. "You talk about forever." I give your head a slight, painful squeeze for emphasis. "But you're the one staring at the lights, champ. So tell me, papi... who the fuck is going to be whose bitch tonight?" I release my grip and push myself to my feet, standing over you.
Dallas Jordan
I see your hand extend towards me just before the bell rings. I normally don’t shake hands before a fight underground, is this guy trying to get into my head? Is this just something they do in PR? Will I be humiliating him if I don’t extend my hand? Will people think I’m rude and a cheater if I use this time to attack? Will I lose my fan base? All of these questions go through my mind in the few seconds I takes me to extend my hand in return. I reach my hand out and immediately regret it as your leg swings up between my legs, direct hit to my full ball sac “OOOHHHHHH YOU CHEAP FUCK” I scream out, hunching forward holding my balls. I here a gasp from the crowd and I stumble forward
Dallas Jordan
I fall right into you allowing you to easily wrap your arms around me, dropping me head first to the ground. My head hits hard and my body bounces up and down, now fully seeing stars. I can hear you whisper into my ear but unable to get a grasp on where I ask it what’s going on. I just know my nuts are on fire and I’m on the ground. I roll to my side towards one side of the ropes listening to most of the crowd boo you
Dadicus
The boos rain down from your loyalists, a satisfying soundtrack to my work. I watch you roll, a wounded animal seeking the ropes. Your world is reduced to fire in your groin and stars in your vision. That’s where I want you. I don’t pounce immediately. A true predator lets its prey think it has a chance. It makes the capture sweeter. I let you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. You turn your head, your eyes bleary, searching for me. You start to plant a foot, to rise. That’s my cue.
Dadicus
I move in fast and low. As you turn your body, trying to find your balance, I close the distance. My arms wrap around your waist in a vice grip, one hand clasping the other wrist. I explode upward from my legs, using the raw power in my thighs and core to hoist you off the canvas. For a second, you’re suspended in the air, draped over my shoulder. I feel your muscles tense in a panic, a late instinct to fight back. Too late. I twist my torso, adding a brutal rotation, and then drive downward with all my weight and velocity. The power slam isn't just about impact; it’s about authority. Your body meets the mat with a concussive THUD that shakes the ring posts. The air bursts from your lungs in a pained whoosh.
Dadicus
Before the shock can even register in your nervous system, I’m on top of you, my face is inches from yours. “what's wrong champ... lets see who screams like a bitch” I growl, my voice a low rasp only you can hear. Then I lower my head. My mouth finds the hard nub of your nipple. I don’t suck. I don’t tease. I bite down... hard. It’s a sharp, claiming, punitive clamp of my teeth. You jolt beneath me... I pull back, my lips stained with the salt of your sweat... leaving the sting, and immediately shift. My face buries into the hot, sweat-slick hollow of your inner armpit, where the muscle is tender and sensitive. My teeth find the soft skin there and bite down again, another sharp, possessive mark. the taste of you on my tongue.
Dallas Jordan
I get myself to the ropes, reach up for the middle one and pull myself up to my knees. I take a deep breathe trying to pull together my energy, still wondering what the fuck just happened. I pull up and turn towards you, just as I do your thick arms wrap around my torso. You’ve got a grip on me and I can tell by your movements and technique that you’re no rookie. I’m lifted up into the air, bracing myself for a fall. My body crashes into the ground, not a fall, a powerful soul crushing slam that shakes the ring and knocks the air from my lungs. I’m coughing and gasping for air when you force yourself on top of me, whispering and taunting me in my ear while I groan and struggle to refill my lungs.
Dallas Jordan
Your taunt registers in my brain, questioning who will be the stud turned into a screaming bitch. In a quick moment that stud is me as your teeth latch onto my nipple “AAAAHHHHGGGGGG OHHHH FUCK!” I scream and my body thrashes around beneath you followed by another by to my pit. Your teeth dig in deep, leaving a solid red mark that clearly shows off your canines. I raise my arm and slam it down on the top of your head then send a hard fist into your side, hammering at your rib cage.
Dadicus
The pain is a bright, sharp flare in my side where your fist hammers my ribs, and a dull throb in my skull from the forearm you slammed down on my head. It’s good. It wakes me up. It reminds me this is a fight, not just a humiliation. Your thrashing and screaming had been music. But this? This is a response. This is the champion fighting back. I grunt with the impact, my body curling instinctively around the bruised ribs, but I don’t retreat. I lean into it. The taste of your sweat and skin is still on my lips. I use the momentum of your push, rolling with the punch to create a sliver of space between us.
Dadicus
My head is ringing, but my vision is clear. I see the fury in your eyes, the red marks on your chest and pit stark against your skin... my marks. You’re not just fighting to win now; you’re fighting to erase the claim I just put on you as I lick my lips and start to get on my knees.
Dallas Jordan
I finally get an attack in and it’s enough to get you off me. My nips and pit skin are burning from your deep bite. I flipped over, landing on the balls of my feet, facing you. I look into your eyes, no longer taking your skills for granted and I won’t be surprised or tricked against. I lunge forward and when I get close, I launch myself up, raising a knee to your chin
Dadicus
Your eyes have changed. The haze of pain and surprise is gone, burned away by the fire I lit in your flesh. GOOD!. Now I have your full attention. You launch forward, no more hesitation, no more arrogance. Just raw, focused intent. You're fast... I'll give you that. The distance closes in a blink. As you plant your foot and coil to spring, I see the attack coming. The upward drive of your knee, aiming to snap my head back and shatter my jaw. There's no room. Instead, I drop my chin down and tuck it tight against my chest, turning my head to the side and bringing my arm up. Your knee doesn't catch me square on the point of the chin. Instead, it slams into part of the arm and the ridge of my jawbone. The impact is hard but not devastating.
Dadicus
But my feet stay planted. My body absorbs the shock, riding the wave of violence. As your knee reaches the peak of its arc and starts to drop, before you can regain your balance, I strike. My other arm, which had been hanging loose, shoot up inside your guard. My left hand clamps onto the back of your neck. My right forearm smashes under your chin, wrenching your head back. You're standing on one leg, over-extended, your body open. I don't let you recover
Dallas Jordan
One direct shot to your chin and I know I'll finish you off easy, just like the rest of the challengers that have stepped into the ring with me. My knee fires up, sliding just past your jaw, inches away from putting you on your back, slamming into your arm. As my leg comes down, I watch your attack almost in slow motion. Your arm hooks my leg forcing me to balance on one foot, your forearm swinging up right into my chin for a devastating blow. What I thought was about to be the turning point I needed to end you has turned into a full counter. There's a look of shock on the crowds faces as they are used to seeing me completely overpower challengers but you are different. You have skills to go along with your strength and I know I'll need to power through to take your holes and keep my belt. I swing my fist into your side with a hard uppercut, hoping it gives me time to recover.
Dadicus
The uppercut is a sledgehammer to my side. Sickening, deep thud that drives up under my ribs and steals the air from my lungs in a violent, choked gasp. My body folds forward instinctively, my arms wrapping around my midsection as if I could hold my insides together. For a moment, there is nothing but white-hot fire in my core and the desperate, clawing need to breathe. I’m bent double, my forehead hovering just above the stained canvas, vulnerable. "You are going to pay for that," I snarl. The crowd’s roar, which had dipped into concerned silence during your shock, erupts anew. They see their champion reasserting control. They see the famous pro wrestler doubled over, hurting. The chants of your name become a physical force, a wall of sound pushing against me.
Dallas Jordan
“Only thing I’ll be paying is a deposit of this nut into your ass” I grab your hair and pull you up to your feet and wrap my arm around your neck while you hunch forward. I Slam a knee into your gut before falling back DDTing your head into the ground.
Dadicus
The world flips. Your knee drives the last of my air out in a sickening whoosh. Then the floor rushes up to meet the back of my skull. The impact is a flash of white, a split-second where sound and light dissolve into pure, ringing static. Darkness swims at the edges of my vision. The crowd's roar is muffled, underwater. But the pain is an anchor. It drags me back. My body is on the mat, but my mind is a sharp, cold point... and we are just getting stated... need to find an opening... cant let this go for long.
Dallas Jordan
Your head slams into the ground and the ring shakes “RAAAHHHHHHH! Roaring from the satisfaction of watching you lay on the ground like a bitch. I pop up to my feet, grab your hair to pull you up to your feet. I sling your body into the rope, waiting for you to come back at me with my arm extended for a clothesline. Enjoying the roar of the crowd.
Dadicus
The world snaps into a whiplash of motion. Your grip on my hair is a brand of fire as you wrench me upright. My feet barely touch the canvas before you’re slinging me toward the ropes. But I see the setup. You want the rebound. You want me helpless and coming back to you. So I don’t fight the momentum. I use it. I keep a vicious hold on your arm... the one you used to throw me. As I rebound, I twist under it, using my returning velocity as a lever. Your own force works against you. My other arm snakes up, clamping around your head in a brutal headlock. I don’t stop moving. I drive my hips back and pull down with all my weight and momentum. Your back arches over the fulcrum of my spine. For a split second, you’re suspended in a perfect, painful bridge. Then I drop my weight and fall backward. CRACK!!.
Dadicus
The sound of your back being broken across mine. The impact drives the air from you. The ring judders beneath us. The crowd’s roar hits a fever pitch... shocked, horrified, enthralled. You bounce off me, collapsing to the canvas beside me. We’re both laid out, gasping, our bodies screaming in protest. I roll onto my side, every nerve in my spine howling. I look over at you, our faces inches apart on the mat. As I start to get up.
Dallas Jordan
As I whip you toward the ropes, you cleverly keep hold of my arm, using my own momentum against me. Before I can react, you duck underneath, trap my head in a tight headlock, and drop backward, folding my spine violently across your back. A guttural groan escapes my lips as every ounce of air is driven from my lungs, my back erupting with pain while the crowd gasps seeing you quickly turn momentum back to your side. I lie motionless for a heartbeat, gritting my teeth through the agony, then instinct takes over. Fighting through the burning in my back, I roll to a knee, pushing against you
Dadicus
The backbreaker left you motionless for a heartbeat, a gratifying heap of pain on the mat. But champions don't stay down easy. I see the fight return to your eyes, the grit of your teeth. You push against me, rolling to a knee. That's when I move. The pain in my own back is a fiery echo, but I channel it into fury. I surge to my feet as you're still finding your balance on one knee. You're looking down, focused on rising. You don't see it coming as you lift. My first forearm smash comes from the side, a short, brutal swing that connects with the side of your head with a sickening thwack. Your head snaps sideways, your body following the momentum, threatening to topple you back over. "Getting up already?" I snarl, not giving you a second to recover. As you wobble, I shift stance and bring my forearm down again onto the back of your exposed neck and skull. CRACK. It's a harder, meaner sound. "What's wrong, champ?" I spit the words down at you. "Ring feeling a little different from up here?" Before you can answer, before you can even think, I deliver a third, final forearm, this one a hammering blow straight down onto the crown of your head, still wobbling not going down.
Dadicus
I grip onto your wrists to yank your upper body back, forcing your head up and exposing your jaw. "This is how you treat a guest?" I growl, my voice low and venomous in your ear. Then I drive my knee upward. It connects with your jaw with a sound like a branch snapping. Your head whips back violently. I feel the impact jolt all the way up my leg. "I'm going to make you my new plaything," I promise, the words a dark whisper. I don't let go of your wrists. I pull you back again, your resistance feeble now, and send a second knee crashing into the same spot. This one has finality to it. This one is to break. You don't just crumble; you fold. I release your wrists and let you slump forward, your face hitting the mat with a dull, final thud. "Your champ is going to have a new owner." I smirk
Dallas Jordan
Still on one knee, I lower my head for just a moment, trying to shake the ringing from the backbreaker. It’s all the opening you need. A sharp forearm crashes into the side of my head, snapping it violently to one side before I can react. I grunt through clenched teeth, barely managing to stay on my knee, only for a second forearm to smash down across the back of my neck. A jolt of pain shoots down my spine as a chorus of boos rains down from the crowd, outraged by the relentless assault on their champion. Before I can even lift my head, a third forearm hammers into the crown of my skull, leaving my vision swimming. Then your hands clamp around my wrists, yanking me upright and exposing my jaw. Damn… I’m wide open. The first knee explodes into my chin, my teeth clacking together as my head whips back. My legs feel like they disappear beneath me, but your grip keeps me upright just long enough for the second knee to crash into the same spot. Everything goes white. You release me, and I crumple face-first onto the mat as the arena falls into stunned silence before erupting into furious boos at your taunts. Every instinct tells me to stay down, but through the haze I hear scattered chants of my name growing louder with each passing second. I dig my fingertips into the canvas, forcing myself to move. I’m not done… not yet.
Dadicus
The boos are a wall of sound, thick with their hate. It means I’ve touched a nerve. I’ve invaded their temple and defaced their god. I watch you crumple. Face-first on the mat. A perfect, beautiful picture of your future defeat. But champions are stubborn. I see your fingers curl, digging into the canvas like claws. I hear it... first a whisper, then a gathering rumble... the chants of your name. They’re willing you up. They’re trying to breathe their own life into your broken body. A slow, cold smile spreads across my face. I step closer, my shadow falling over you. I lift my head, scanning the crowd, my eyes finding the loudest, most desperate faces in the front row. I meet their eyes, one by one. Then, with deliberate, contemptuous slowness, I raise my right hand, middle finger extended. I sweep it across the section, a silent, universal fuck you.
Dadicus
The boos swell into a deafening roar of pure rage. I hook my hands under your shoulder and hip, and with a grunt of effort, I roll you onto your stomach. I feel a faint tremor of resistance. Good. You’re still in there. I stand and step over you, one leg on either side of you back. I reach down, grab your wrists, and pull your arms straight back. I hook them in the crook of my thighs, using my legs as levers to bend you backward. Then I sink down, settling my full weight onto the small of your back, and lean back. The camel clutch is locked in. Your spine arches over my thighs at a cruel angle. Your arms are pinned, helpless. Your face is forced up toward the lights. I wrap one arm around your head, my hand gripping your chin. I pull back, increasing the pressure on your spine and neck, forcing your head even higher. I want every single person in this dank basement to see this.
Dadicus
I lean down, my lips close to your ear, my voice a low, intimate growl meant to cut through the crowd's noise just for you. "Come on, champ," I taunt, giving your chin another pull to make your face contort. "Let them see. Let them see that pretty face squirm. Let them hear the pain in your throat. They came to watch their champ. Let them watch him kneel." My free hand slides down your sweat-slicked chest. It finds the hard, bitten nub of your nipple, still red and angry from my teeth. I don't just press it. I pinch and twist, a sharp, degrading pressure mixed with the deep, stretching agony in your back. "Let them know," I whisper, my voice dripping with vicious promise, "who owns you tonight." I increase the pressure on your spine, bending you further, a living bowstring of pain. The crowd is hysterical, a mixture of horrified screams and furious chants. But all I care about is the strain in your trapped body, the choked gasps I feel through my grip on your chin, and the complete, utter control I have over their fallen idol. This isn't just a hold. It's a statement.
Dallas Jordan
The roar of the crowd fills the arena as you stand over me, taking your time to sneer at my fans. The instant you raise your middle finger toward them, the building erupts into a thunderous chorus of boos. Even through the haze of pain, hearing them defend me fuels something inside. But before I can move, you’re on me again. You roll me onto my stomach, wrench my arms behind me, and trap my wrists beneath your knees before dropping your full weight onto the small of my back. Agony tears through my spine as my body bends into a painful arch. A strained groan escapes before I can stop it, my lower back feeling like it’s about to split in two as you yank my chin even higher. Then you find the bruised, tender spot on my chest, digging your fingers into it and twisting hard. The sharp, burning pain shoots through my body, forcing another gasp from my lips as the crowd rains furious boos down on you. Every taunt, every twist, every ounce of pressure isn’t just about making me submit—it’s about trying to break the champion in front of the people who believe in him. My breathing comes in ragged bursts as the referee kneels beside us, asking if I want to quit. I grit my teeth and shake my head as much as your grip allows. No. Never. My arms are useless, locked behind your legs, but my boots still scrape against the canvas. I dig the toes into the mat and begin pushing with everything I have, dragging both of us forward by inches. Every tiny movement sends another bolt of pain ripping through my back, yet each inch earns a louder chant of my name. The fans aren’t giving up on me… and I refuse to give up on them.
Dadicus
The scrape of your boots on the canvas is a raw, grating sound beneath the crowd's roar. Inch by painful inch, you’re moving us. I can feel the tremble in your body, the strain of muscles pushed beyond their limit, the fiery protest of your spine bending against my weight. And yet, you push. The chants of your name swell with each fraction of movement, feeding your defiance. "Where do you think you're going, champ?" My voice is calm, almost conversational, a stark contrast to the violent intimacy of the hold. In one fluid, ruthless motion, I release your chin. My arms move fast. My left arm snakes under your throat from the side, clamping tight. At the same time, I shift my body. Before you can capitalize on the slight shift in weight, I trap your head under my right armpit. The dragon sleeper is on, and it’s a vise.
Dadicus
Your face is now buried against my skin, pressed into the damp and musky armpit. The heat of my body, the smell of sweat and effort and dominance, is forced into your nostrils with every ragged breath you try to take. My chest muscles constrict around your head with every inhale I take, tightening the hold. I lean back, pulling with all my strength, stretching your neck and spine in a new, excruciating direction. The pressure is immense, a slow, steady crush on your windpipe and back. I drop my head next to yours, my lips brushing the shell of your ear. My voice drops to a dark, taunting whisper, a secret just for us in the middle of the storm. "Say you enjoy it," I murmur, the words a soft, venomous promise. "Tell me you love the taste of your own defeat. Whisper that you like the way I make you hurt… and I’ll let you breathe. I’ll let you go." I increase the pressure a fraction, a cruel emphasis. "Or," I continue, my tone hardening, "I keep bending. I keep pulling. Until something in that pretty neck of yours… snaps."
Dadicus
I let the threat hang in the air, thick with the smell of my sweat and your struggle. I can feel the fight still in you, the furious tension in your trapped body. But I can also feel the strain, the exhaustion, the desperate need for air. The crowd’s chants are a distant echo now. In this hold, there is only you, me, and the silent, brutal question I’ve asked. What’s stronger: your pride, or your instinct to survive?
Dallas Jordan
Just as I feel us inching forward, the pressure suddenly shifts. For one hopeful instant, I think I’ve forced you to adjust. Then your arm snakes around my neck and everything changes. My head is wrenched sideways and trapped beneath your armpit , my body pulled backward into the dragon sleeper. The instant my face is pinned against your sweaty musky pit , my eyes fly open in panic. No… no, not this… The air around me turns hot and suffocating, every ragged breath filled with the stale scent of sweat as I desperately search for clean air that never comes. My lungs burn, my heartbeat pounds in my ears, and with every desperate inhale my thoughts become harder to hold together, panic slowly drowning out reason. I kick my boots frantically against the canvas, twisting my hips with everything I have, but every struggle only cinches the hold tighter. The arena, deafening only moments ago, falls into an uneasy silence. The chants die away, replaced by scattered gasps and horrified faces as dozens of horny men watch their champion, who has survived everything until now, begin to come apart before their eyes. Some fans stand frozen with their hands over their mouths, others shake their heads in disbelief, unable to watch as the realization spreads through the crowd: this might actually be the end of his reign. I try to fight it, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, willing myself to stay composed. Don’t let them see you break… don’t let him know… But my body betrays me. My breathing turns ragged, my shoulders tremble uncontrollably, and a muffled whimper escapes before I can swallow it back. The sound seems to suck the life out of the building, replacing hope with stunned silence and heartbreaking disbelief. My resistance fades to weak, desperate pushes that accomplish nothing, my body slowly sagging into your control. My fists remain clenched. I still refuse to submit but for the first time since becoming champion, a terrifying thought creeps into my mind.
Dadicus
I feel it. Beneath my arms ... the tremble. That fine, uncontrollable vibration of a body pushed past its limit. Then the sound, muffled by my flesh but unmistakable: a whimper. The last gasp of pride before the dam breaks. The crowd’s silence is thicker than their boos. It’s the sound of hope dying. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?” I murmur into your ear, my voice a dark caress. I tighten the hold a fraction, arching your neck back further, stretching you to the very edge of comfort and into pure, unadulterated strain. “Let me feel that struggle. Give it to me.” But I don’t want you to quit. Not like this. Not silently. I want the fight. I want to break the will, not just the body. So I let you go.
Dadicus
I release the dragon sleeper all at once. Your body, tensed against the pressure, collapses forward onto the mat with a heavy thud. You’re broken, but you’re not beaten. I see your hands still clenched into fists. I see the fire, dimmed but not extinguished, in your dazed eyes as you try to push yourself up. “I see you still have some fight in you,” I say, standing over you. “Good. That’s going to make my victory even sweeter.” Before you can recover, before you can even think about standing, I move. I drop down beside you, my movements swift and efficient. I hook my right arm under your left leg at the thigh. My left arm snakes under your right armpit and across your chest. In one powerful, rolling motion, I use my own body as a lever, flipping you over onto your back and then continuing the roll, so that you end up on top of me. But this is no escape. It’s a display. As we come to rest, I am flat on my back on the canvas. You are straddling me, but you have no control. My legs are hooked inside yours, spreading them wide apart. My arms are locked around your other leg, holding you against my chest. Into a Spladel position
Dadicus
As i start to lift you upright in a lifted Spladel putting every inch of you on show for the entire gym. The tight red trunks strain across your groin, outlining everything, leaving nothing to the imagination under the harsh lights. You are exposed, vulnerable, held aloft in a pose of complete submission. I flex my right biceps, the muscle swelling for your fandom, a crude show of strength for the horrified, rapt crowd. “Yeah, boy!” I shout, my voice raw and triumphant. “Look at your champ now! Look at him! This is what I do to champions!” I adjust my grip, keeping you pinned against me with one arm. My hand... slides down from your back. It trails over the sweat-slick skin of your back, down the tense muscle of your ass. Then it moves inward, purposefully, deliberately. My hand grabs you through the fabric of your trunks, a firm, claiming grip on your most vulnerable flesh. I squeeze... enough to dominate, to threaten, to humiliate. It’s a promise of worse to come. My voice dropping to a venomous, intimate growl that cuts through the crowd’s stunned silence. “What’s wrong, champ?” I whisper, my grip tightening. “You like that, don’t you? You little fuck. This is mine to keep. All of you. And tonight, I’m taking everything.”
Dallas Jordan
My body crashes onto the canvas as the hold releases, every muscle seizing as I struggle to draw a full breath. I cough hard, my chest heaving while my neck and back burn from the punishment. For a brief moment, I simply lie there, staring at the lights overhead, trying to convince my body to respond. The arena is eerily quiet, the fans frozen in disbelief after watching their champion pushed closer to defeat than they’ve ever seen before. I hear scattered voices calling my name, but they’re no longer confident cheers—they’re anxious pleas, hoping I’ll find one last answer. I… I don’t have one. My body feels impossibly heavy, every limb refusing to answer the commands my mind desperately sends. My neck throbs with every heartbeat. My back feels like it’s been split apart. Even drawing a full breath takes more effort than I can spare. For the first time since this match began, I’m not thinking about mounting a comeback or finding an opening. I’m just trying to stay conscious. Just trying to keep breathing. Please… just let me get up one more time. I hate the thought the instant it crosses my mind. Champions aren’t supposed to beg. They’re supposed to fight. But the truth is impossible to ignore. I have nothing left to give. Before I can gather myself, you’re on me again. You hook my leg and arm, rolling me over in one fluid motion before I realize what’s happening. My momentum carries me into the spladle, my legs forced apart and my body folded awkwardly as you lock everything in tight. My ass and bulge on clear display for the crowd to see while I lay on top of your tough muscle body. I immediately try to shift my weight and kick free, but every movement is sluggish after the dragon sleeper. My neck throbs, my lower back screams, and my balance is gone. A surge of panic washes over me as I realize I can’t generate the strength to fight the hold the way I normally would. Move… come on… move. My muscles answer with nothing more than weak, trembling resistance. I hear.
Dallas Jordan
you taunting the crowd: “Look at your champ now! Look at him! This is what I do to champions!” I catch the worried expressions on the faces surrounding the ring, a painful realization settles in. They’re not waiting for me to escape anymore… they’re bracing themselves to watch me lose. That thought hurts more than anything you’ve done to my body. That is until your hand snakes begging my ass, running up my crack and landing on my bulge. Your hand grips my balls, squeezing tight, showing ownership and dominance of my most Precious possession. My head shakes furiously knowing I’m stuck in your grip, bring humiliated at your hands. More threats are whispered in my ear and my cock twitches in my briefs brushing against your hand on my balls.
Dadicus
The tremors in your body are one thing. But that?... That little twitch against my palm, that involuntary pulse of your cock brushing my hand as I squeeze your precious, vulnerable jewels? That’s something else entirely. That’s your body betraying you. That’s biology admitting what your mind is still fighting. A dark, predatory smile spreads across my face. The crowd sees your struggle, but I feel your truth. “What’s wrong, Dallas?” I purr, my voice dripping with mock concern as I give another deliberate, possessive squeeze, feeling you twitch again in response. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the shoe? To be the one displayed? To be the one whose body reacts even when his pride screams not to?” I hold the pose for a long moment, letting every pair of eyes in the room drink in the image: their champion, spread-eagled and helpless, my hand firmly cupping the outline of your cock and balls through the thin red fabric. It’s a picture of absolute ownership. Then, I change the picture.
Dadicus
My hand releases its grip on your bulge. It slides down, over the taut curve of your ass. My fingers hook into the waistband of your red trunks. With a sharp, merciless yank, I pull the fabric up and in, wedging it deep between your ass cheeks. The effect is instant and obscene. The already-tight material drive into your cleft, leaving the full, rounded globes of your ass and that tight whole completely exposed to the hot, crowded room. The front of your briefs is pulled even tighter across your groin, straining and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. A collective, shocked gasp rises from the crowd, followed by a wave of furious boos and I can hear it now... scattered, hungry cheers from those who appreciate the brutal artistry of the humiliation of the hot body of the champ on display. “Let them see,” I growl into your ear, my voice low and vicious. “Let them all see what their champion really is. Just a man. Just flesh... want and weakness.” I keep you lifted there on full display in its most vulnerable state.
Dallas Jordan
My body quivers and I let it a soft whimper when your deep voice whispers into my ear, your warm breath sends chills through my body. I try to control my cock trying to remember that I’m the champ and this won’t end this way. But my cock twitches again against your hand so you can feel the hardness of my cock flex against you. “fuck you Dadicus, you’ll never win them over” I respond knowing my fans are loyal no matter what happens. My spread open body on display foot crowd as I look out at them, seeing the concern on their face. I’m unable to move, unable to muster up any strength to break this humiliating hold. My semi hard cock and full balls, with a weeks load that I was saving for this, are at your mercy.
Dallas Jordan
Your hand finally slides from my groin and I feel a little relief and hope that the humiliation is over. Hope that you will release me, make a mistake and I’ll be back to where I expected to be. Back to dismantling my opponent limb by limb. Instead your hand snakes down my body, groping at my ass. I close my eyes tight, hoping this is the end of this degrading experience. “AAAHHHHGGGG” instead I scream out as the fabric of my red briefs is forced deep into the crevice of my ass cheeks. The tightness around my cock and balls squeezes my manhood tight, showing off my hard cock, now more visible to the crowd. They can see the veins poking through, they now know I am rock hard in this hold. My tight hairy hole pokes out from the briefs, showing the crowd something else they’ve never seen. Now it’s not just me at someone else’s mercy, it’s my ass on full display. I hear the boos and feel fight building inside me. Then come the cheers, cheers from guys who have been behind me for years, guys who have enjoyed watching me dismantle opponents week after week. Now they look on, staring at my bulge and hole, watching you get payback for every wannabe alpha that I wrecked in the ring. My head sinks down, succumbing to the embarrassment at your hands.
Dadicus
The scream you let out is better than any music. It’s raw, unfiltered, and filled with a humiliation that goes deeper than any pain. I keep the wedgie locked in, holding you aloft and spread for what feels like an eternity. I let the crowd drink it in. Let them see the veins standing out on your trapped, hard cock. Let them see the tight, exposed cleft of your ass. Let them process that their untouchable champion is put on displayed. Owned. The referee scurries over, his face a mask of concern and scandalized duty. He kneels beside us, his voice a hesitant whisper against the roar of the crowd. He taps your shoulder. “Dallas… do you submit? Do you give up?” I don’t wait for your answer. My smirk is a blade. “Oh, I’m not done with the champ,” I say, my voice loud enough for the first few rows to hear, cutting off the ref. “We’re just getting started.” With that, I let go.
Dadicus
My arms unlock. My legs release their hook. You don’t crumple so much as you spill onto the canvas, a boneless heap of defeated muscle and exposed pride. The red briefs remain wedged. I push myself to my feet, my own body singing with adrenaline and control. I step over you, one foot planted on either side of your torso. My hand reaches out and grabs the middle rope, using it for balance, for leverage, for drama. I look down at your vulnerable form... your neck exposed, your chest heaving. A target. My right knee comes up, then drives down like a piston. Crunch. It lands across your neck and upper chest. The air explodes from your lungs in a choked, wet cough. Your body jerks violently, a spasmodic reaction to the blunt, crushing force. I don’t pause. I lift my knee and drive it down again. THUD. Harder this time. Aimed at the same junction. Your cough turns into a gag, your face flushing a dark red. CRACK!!!. A third time. My entire weight behind it now, a methodical, ruthless punishment. Each impact is a period at the end of a sentence.
Dadicus
Your body jerks with each strike, a puppet with its strings cut, reacting only to the violence inflicted upon it. There’s no defense, no guard, just the awful, accepting convulsion of a body being broken. The crowd is a mixture of horrified silence and bloodthirsty cheers. I don’t look at them. I look only at the ruin I’m making of you. “This is the dismantling you promised,” I growl, my voice cold and flat. “Limb by limb. Starting with your pride. Now we work on the rest.”
Dallas Jordan
I stay trapped in your hold, feeling the breeze in the gym rush across my exposed ass. My cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably in my tight wedged briefs. I close my eyes and so many thoughts go through my mind about how I got in this situation. I open my eyes and the ref is in my face asking me to submit. I refuse but before I can say anything, my body drops to the ground.
Dallas Jordan
My body spills onto the canvas in a heap, every muscle refusing to cooperate. I barely register the release before another wave of pain crashes into me. A crushing knee slams across my neck and upper chest, forcing a violent cough as what little air I’d recovered is ripped away. I instinctively curl inward, but my body is too slow to defend itself. A second knee drop crashes into the same spot, sending a shockwave through my spine. The arena recoils with a collective gasp. I hear my name shouted from somewhere in the crowd, but it sounds impossibly distant, drowned beneath the pounding in my ears. Then comes the third. It lands with devastating force, my body jolting against the mat before going still except for my ragged breathing.
Dallas Jordan
Every instinct screams at me to stay down. My chest burns. My neck feels unstable. My vision swims beneath the arena lights. I can’t think about winning anymore. I can’t think about countering. I’m simply trying to survive the next second. Just breathe… just keep breathing. My fists remain weakly clenched against the canvas, more out of instinct than strength. Around the arena, the mood has changed completely. The fans aren’t chanting anymore. Many stand frozen, hands over their mouths, watching in stunned disbelief as their champion lies broken before them. Others plead with me to move, to show any sign that I’m still in this. I want to answer them. I want to prove this isn’t how my reign ends. But all I can manage is the smallest twitch of my hand as I struggle to gather enough strength to rise one more time.
Dadicus
Your body lies still beneath me, a canvas of defeat painted in heaving breaths and trembling muscle. I see it... that stubborn, instinctual clench of your fist against the mat. I don’t need the knee again. The message is sent. Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin. I step over you, my shadow swallowing what’s left of your light. My hand slides into your sweat-soaked hair, fingers tangling in the roots. I grip hard and pull. I haul you upright, your body limp and heavy, your head lolling until I force you to look at me. “What’s wrong, champ?” I ask, my voice a low, mocking whisper that somehow carries in the dead air. I shake your head gently by the hair. “I thought you said I was going to be your little bitch.” I lean in, our faces inches apart. “Look at you. You can’t even stand without me holding you up.”
Dadicus
I don’t let you fall. I guide you. Still holding your hair, I maneuver you backward until your shoulders bump against the ring ropes. Then, with a swift, brutal efficiency, I go to work. I turn you to face the ropes. I hook one of my legs around yours, locking our limbs together. My other leg comes up, not to strike, but to bend. I press my thigh against the back of your head, forcing your upper body to bend forward over the middle rope. Your spine curves into a painful arc. Then, I reach down and grab your wrists. I pull your arms up and back, hooking them over my head so your own limbs are used to trap you. I lean back, using the ropes as my anchor, and pull. The elevated abdominal stretch is cinched in. You are bent backward, folded like a pretzel, your arms helplessly hooked over my head, my leg locking your head in place. Your abdomen is stretched taut, vulnerable. The wedged red briefs are still in place, making the display of your submission complete and obscene. I increase the pressure, leaning back further, stretching you to the limit. “Let them see,” I grunt, the strain of holding the move evident in my voice. “Let them all see their champion now. A toy. Bent and broken for my amusement.” I look out at the silent, staring crowd, then down at your contorted, exposed form. Every ounce of pride you ever had is gone, stripped away and displayed for this horny, bloodthirsty mob as they start to play with their bulges.
Dallas Jordan
My body hangs against the ropes as you drag me upright, my legs barely remembering how to hold my weight. Every pull on my hair sends another jolt through my aching neck, forcing my eyes open despite the haze settling over my vision. I hear your words, but they barely register beneath the pounding in my head. My chest rises in ragged, uneven breaths, every inhale reminding me how little I have left. The crowd has gone unnervingly quiet. The confident chants that carried me through every title defense have given way to stunned silence, broken only by scattered pleas for me to fight back. They aren’t waiting for a comeback anymore—they’re watching with the sick feeling that this could be the final chapter of my reign.
Dallas Jordan
You force me into the abdominal stretch against the ropes, wrenching my spine into another agonizing bend. A cry escapes before I can swallow it, my exhausted muscles refusing to answer as I instinctively try to pull free. There’s no explosive escape left in me, no counter waiting to happen. Every second is simply a battle to remain standing, to keep my body from giving out completely. Just don’t quit… don’t let it end because you gave up. My fists tighten weakly, my jaw clenches, and through the blur of the arena lights I lock eyes with the fans in the front row. Their expressions say everything: fear, disbelief, and desperate hope that somehow their champion can survive one more time.
Dadicus
That stubborn fire still flickers behind your eyes... a last, dying ember of pride. I see it as you lock onto your fans in the front row. You're not fighting me anymore; you're fighting for them. You're fighting to not quit. How noble. How pathetic. I increase the pressure on the stretch, bending you further over the rope. The line of your spine is a taut, trembling bow. "Look at him," I snarl to them. To the faces filled with fear and fading hope. "Look at your champion. This is what's left." Then I shift my focus. My free hand, the one not hooked with your arms over my head, drops. It tightens. I bring my fist up in a sharp, stinging thud against the tight fabric straining over your bulge. THUD!. The sound is crisp, obscene, cutting through the tense silence. Your body jolts in my grip, a fresh shock amidst the deep, aching strain. The trapped flesh beneath the red briefs bounces from the impact. I don't stop. I do it again. And again. SMACK. SMACK!. SMACK!!!.
Dadicus
Each strike is measured, deliberate, humiliating. It's not about causing injury; it's about demonstrating ownership. It's about making your body react... making you react... in front of everyone who ever believed in you. With each impact, your hips twitch, a helpless, involuntary spasm. A low, pained groan is forced from your lips. "Show them," I growl into your ear, my voice a dark whisper beneath the rhythmic, degrading slaps. "Show them how you whimper. How you flinch. Let them hear it." After a final, resounding slap that leaves the entire area flushed and throbbing, I change my grip. My fingers curl into your balls, right at the back. With a sharp, merciless yank, I pull them down... just enough. The elastic band slips below the head of your cock, trapping the shaft. The tip, flushed and sensitive, is now exposed to the cool, charged air of the arena and the horrified, rapt stares of the crowd. It peeks out from the confines of the red fabric, a stark, vulnerable symbol of your utter defeat. I hold you there, bent and exposed, your most private self put on brutal public display. The abdominal stretch keeps you locked, unable to hide, unable to adjust. "The belt is mine," I say, my voice cold and final, loud enough for the room to hear. "The ring is mine." My gaze sweeps over the stunned fans before returning to your exposed state. "This is mine. Everyone here now knows exactly what you are." I let the image sink in, let the humiliation crystallize.
Dallas Jordan
Around the arena, the silence is almost unbearable. Fans who had spent the entire match believing I’d find another comeback now stand frozen, hands covering their mouths, unable to look away. Others shake their heads in disbelief, watching their champion endure punishment with no answer left. The hope that filled the building at the opening bell has given way to dread. If the hold wasn’t humiliating enough, I feel your fist slam into my bulge crushing into my full balls and hard cock. “Ohhhhh” I whimper quietly trying not to let the crowd hear me.
Dallas Jordan
Every strike lands with a dull, jolting thud, each one sending another wave of pain through my already battered body. A strained cry escapes before I can bite it back, my abdomen tightening instinctively as I fight to stay upright in the hold. My vision blurs, tears welling from the sheer overload of pain and exhaustion. I hate that the crowd can see it. I hate that they can see me breaking.
Dallas Jordan
“Get out… move… do something.” My mind screams the commands, but my body refuses to obey. Every muscle trembles from fatigue, my breathing ragged as I struggle simply to remain conscious. Your attacks go from hits to a hard grab, squeeze and pull, showing complete ownership of my most prized possession on my body. “UUUUHHHHHGGGGG FUCK!” My scream echoes through the gym just as my cockhead pops out of my red briefs. My pink head on display, leaking drips out pre down into the waistband of my briefs. “Please…don’t” I whimper quietly trying to beg for mercy, trying to end the humiliation, to save some of my pride. I can feel my legs threatening to give way with no fight left in me.
Dadicus
The sound of your begging is even better than your screams. That quiet, broken "Please… don’t" is the truest victory. It’s the sound of your pride, not just cracking, but dissolving. I keep you bent and trapped in the stretch for a few seconds longer, letting the full weight of your humiliation sink in for you, for me, for every single person watching. My hand stays where it is, a firm, possessive cup around your balls, a constant reminder of my control. I feel the fine tremors running through your body, the absolute depletion of your strength. I hear your plea. And I grant it. I release the hold all at once. The tension on your spine and arms evaporates. You don’t collapse so much as you wilt, slumping forward against the ropes, held up only by their elastic give and your own shattered will. You gasp, a ragged, shuddering inhalation of air that must feel like fire in your bruised chest. I take a step back, letting the space between us scream. I turn to face the crowd, my own chest heaving. I raise my arms, flexing my biceps, a crude, victorious pose. A smirk spreads across my face as I soak in the chaos... the horrified gasps, the furious boos, the scattered, awed cheers.
Dadicus
After a few pregnant seconds, I turn my attention back to you. You’re clinging to the top rope, your head hanging, your body a map of defeat. Your exposed cockhead glistens under the lights, a pathetic, leaking testament. “Let’s see what your champ is really working with,” I say, my voice loud and clear, a commentator for my own conquest. I run my tongue slowly over my lips, a deliberate, hungry gesture. Then I close the distance between us. My hands don’t grab you roughly this time. They are methodical. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of your red briefs, now stretched and stained. I look you dead in the eyes as I do it, my gaze holding yours, making you watch. Then, slowly, torturously, I begin to pull them down. It’s not a quick strip. It’s a reveal. Inch by inch, I peel the fabric down over your hips, past your thighs. The crowd’s noise swells into a fever pitch. I let the elastic catch, drag, and finally release, baring you completely. The briefs pool around your knees, then drop to your ankles, leaving you naked in the the ring, held up only by your grip on the rope and the last shreds of your dignity. I step back again, my eyes raking over your exposed form... the hot heaving hairy chest, the thick trembling legs, the utter vulnerability now on display for all to see. “There he is,” I announce to the room, my voice dripping with contemptuous triumph. “The hot undisputed champion. Nothing left to hide.” as my eyes lock on you and smirk.
Dallas Jordan
I can’t help but continue to whimper, looking around at the faces who no longer recognize me as their champion. My head hangs down, groaning “UUUHHHH NOO!” As you continue to cup my balls, showing your ownership over me. Finally my pleas are answered and you release me. Gravity slowly pulls me down, the ropes keep me from dropping to the ground. Both arms hang over the top rope as I look out into the crowd. I see the door open and a familiar figure walks through, strutting down the walkway towards me. As he gets closer, I realize who it is….Adrian, my long term boyfriend and fellow underground fighter is walking towards the ring.
Dallas Jordan
For a moment I forget where I am and the predicament I’m in. I forget that behind me is a big Puerto Rican stud in total control over me and this match. Then I hear him “Let’s see what your champ is really working with,” I turn around just as your thumbs maneuver their way into the waistband of my briefs. Looking into your eyes, a fire of rage and desire to destroy me is clearly visible. I feel the fabric slide down my body, slowly, inch by inch more of my body is exposed. My hairy ass is on display to the crowd. The crowd that now includes my boyfriend who rarely sees and never plays with my ass. My briefs fall to the ground, my cock slaps up against my abs, rock hard and leaking pre into the hair on my abs. My thick 6.5” cock on proud display pouting straight up at my belly button. As you smirk I push off the ropes, lowering my shoulder at you trying to ram it into your torso. The crowd reacts after seeing fight left in me, reminded that I’m still the champ. Now I’m fighting for more than just my belt, I’m fighting for my pride in front of Adrian.
Dadicus
The fire in your eyes isn't just rage. It's desperation. I see it the moment before you move... that flash of something beyond pain, beyond shame. Your eyes dart past me, toward the entrance. My eyes follow yours I see him. A split second. A fatal mistake. You use it. You push off the ropes, the last dregs of your pride and something deeper... something for him... fueling you. You lower your shoulder and drive it into my core. The air explodes from my lungs in a sharp, pained “Ughff!” It's a solid hit, born of pure fury. It bends me forward, my arms wrapping instinctively around my midsection where the dull ache begins to bloom. The crowd's reaction is instant... a volcanic eruption of sound. They see it. The champion, naked and broken, finding one last ember to fight for. For his belt. For his pride. I lean my weight into you, making you carry us both. "You're going to pay for that " I grunt, the promise dark and absolute.
Dallas Jordan
I continue to drive my shoulder into you “AAAAAHHHHGGGGG FUCKER!!!” I let out a mighty roar, feeling like a champion again. I push you back into the ropes, bounce us both off of them and Irish whip you across the ring. As you come barreling back to me, I lift my leg, boot aimed at your chest.
Dadicus
You whip me across the ring. My boots scrape the canvas, I see it as I rebound... your boot lifting, aiming right for my center. There’s no time to dodge, only to brace. It connects. Not just my chest. Your boot slams into my sternum and keeps rising, the hard edge catching me under the chin. My head snaps back. White light explodes behind my eyes. The taste of iron floods my mouth... my teeth slicing into the inside of my cheek. For a second, I’m weightless. Then gravity remembers me. I hit the mat head-first. The impact is a hollow, sickening thud that vibrates through my skull. My vision goes dark at the edges, narrowing to a tunnel of blurred canvas and swirling lights. The crowd’s roar surges, a tidal wave of sound that washes over me. I don’t move. My chest burns where your boot landed, a deep, angry ache with every shallow breath I manage to pull in. Get up!!!. The thought is cold, clear, cutting through the pain. It’s not a plea. It’s a command. My fingers curl against the mat as I start to move slowly.
Dallas Jordan
I stand firm watching you run toward me, the look on your face when you know you can’t dodge my boot sends a grin over my face. A loud thud echoes through the basement and the crowd roars, finally seeing their champ take control of this fight. Your body drops to the ground face first. I stand in front of you and place your head between my legs so you’re staring down at the ground. I jump up and drop to my knees, slamming your head back into the ground.
Dadicus
Darkness swims at the edges of my vision after landing on my head from the impact. Then, I feel your hands are on me, rough and decisive. You wedge my head between your legs, forcing my gaze down at the stained mat. I try to move but you hook my arms, only your thighs framing my world, the smell of sweat and musk hitting my nostrils. I have a fraction of a second to realize what’s coming. I try to push up but its to late... a cold dread slices through the fog. You jump. My world upends. Your weight leaves the mat, and for a suspended moment, there’s nothing but the pull of gravity and the tight lock of your thighs around my skull. Then you drop, driving your knees down, using the force of your fall to spear my head straight down into the unforgiving canvas. CRACK!.
Dadicus
A white-hot bolt of pure, concussive force explodes from the point of impact, racing through my skull and down my spine. My face mashes into the mat, my nose flattening, my lips splitting anew. A guttural, choked “Mgh!” is all that escapes... a sound of pure, involuntary agony forced from my lungs. For a long, endless moment, there is no thought, no pain, no sound. There is only a brilliant, silent white void. Sensation returns in a nauseating wave. The roar of the crowd crashes back in, louder than ever, a frenzied celebration of your violence. The mat beneath my cheek is sticky and cold. You roll off me. I roll to my side. But somewhere, buried deep beneath the shock and the pain, a single, stubborn ember glows.
Dallas Jordan
I stay on my knees for only a heartbeat, my chest rising and falling as I watch your body twitch from the impact. The roar of the crowd washes over me, louder than it’s been all night. They can feel it. They know the tide has finally turned. I push to my feet and look down at you, seeing that faint spark of defiance still burning in your eyes. “You’re tougher than I gave you credit for,” I mutter, breathing hard. “But this ends now.” Before you can gather yourself, I grab a handful of your hair and the back of your wrist, hauling you off the canvas. Your legs wobble beneath you, forcing me to hold most of your weight. The referee stays close, watching carefully as I drag you toward the center of the ring. The fans are on their feet now, clapping in rhythm, urging me to finish what I started.
Dallas Jordan
I hook your head under my arm and cinch it in tight, taking a second to steady my own exhausted body. Every muscle aches, every breath reminds me of the punishment I’ve endured, but adrenaline drowns it out. I tighten my grip, glance toward the crowd. I grab the waistband of your trunks and yank them up, showing off your thick glutes. I parade you around the ring so the horny men get a close up view of you at my mercy.
Dadicus
The world is a tilt-a-whirl of pain and blurred lights. You grip my hair and pull me up, your other arm around my neck a vice. I can barely stand. My legs are rubber, my skull is ringing. The crowd’s rhythmic clapping is a drumbeat to my struggle. Then I feel your hand at my waistband. A sharp, humiliating yank. “Aghh… you fucker.” The word tears from my split lips as the fabric of my yellow briefs is jerked viciously upward, digging between my ass cheeks. The sudden, brutal wedgie bites deep, forcing the material to ride up and press my own hardened bulge tight against my lower abdomen. The exposure is total... you’re parading me, a broken trophy, showing off my helplessness and my involuntary arousal to every leering face in the basement. The heat of pure, unadulterated shame floods my veins, hotter than any pain. I can’t let this happen.
Dadicus
As you take another step, gloating to your fans, my arm... seemingly limp at my side... suddenly whips out with the last of my coiled, desperate strength. My hand finds its target, sinking through the thin layer of sweat and fabric of your own red trunks. My fingers wrap around the thick, hard bulge I find there. You’re just as turned on by this as they are. As I am. I squeeze. A brutal, crushing vise-grip that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with possession and pain. You freeze. A choked, startled gasp hits my ear. I pull up, using my grip as a handle, forcing you onto your tippy-toes. The parade stops. The gloating ends. All your leverage vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sharp, vulnerable agony. I lean in, my body swaying against yours for support, my lips brushing the shell of your ear. I can smell your sweat, your adrenaline, your shock. “You want to parade me?” I whisper, my voice a raw and seductive. “You little fucker.” Then, I do the one thing you’d never expect. I dart my tongue out, a quick, wet lick up the curve of your ear. It’s sensual. It’s predatory. A mark. A claim. I tighten my grip, feeling you twitch in my hand, a mix of pain and something else entirely. “Who’s got who now?” I breathe, the words hot and dark against your skin. The power has shifted, not on the scoreboard, not in the crowd’s eyes, but here, in this intimate, brutal clasp. You paraded my weakness. Now you’re dangling by yours... as my breath comes in hot and hard.
Dallas Jordan
The whole environment in the basement has changed. It’s like we’re in a completely different battle. I listen to you scream out and the crowd erupts in cheers. Sweat drips down my face into your back. I release your waistband, raise my hand and send a hard slap to your ass. There’s a sting in your ass that vibrates my hand. I maneuver you closer to the crowd of horny men so they can get a good look at your sexy ass.
Dallas Jordan
I look out into the crowd, watching them cheer on their champion. “Are you ready to watch me fuck this bitch?” I yell out at the crowd roars. Just then my arm releases your head. My jaw drops and eyes go wide. The men in the crowd see a look of fear on my face when your hand reaches up and wraps around my cock and balls. “AAAHHHHGGGG” my shriek is a sound of horror running through the room. I lift up with you in total control of my body, controlling me with just one hand. “fucker!” I whisper into your ear “let go”. I grip your wrist but it only makes the squeeze tighter. Your tongue slides up my ear, marking me, humiliating me and sending a shock to my mind. I’m stuck on my tip toes whimpering and groaning staring into your deadly eyes.
Dadicus
Your whisper is a pathetic, trembling thing... “fucker… let go.” Your grip on my wrist is weak, desperate. It only makes me squeeze tighter, feeling the hard length of you pulse traitorously in my palm, a heartbeat of surrender. I see the horror in your eyes, wide and glassy, staring up into mine. I see the crowd see it too. The fear on the champion’s face. The whimper that escapes your lips as you balance on your tip-toes, completely at my mercy. My own ass is stinging, on display, but nobody’s looking at me anymore. All eyes are on you, on my hand buried in your red trunks. “I got you right where I want you,” I breathe, my voice a hot, dark promise against your skin.
Dadicus
I don’t waste another second. In one swift, brutal motion, I lift and pivot. I use that grip as a handle, as an anchor. With a guttural roar that tears from my bruised ribs, I heave upwards and backwards. For a moment, you’re suspended in the air, horizontal... then I arch my back and drive downward. You flip through the air, completely helpless, and I follow you down, ensuring your descent is guided and accelerated by my own weight. SLAM!!
Dadicus
You land flat on your back, my full weight driving the air from your lungs in a sickening whoosh. You’re curled onto your side, gasping, clutching yourself, your body wracked in pain. I lean over you, my shadow covering your broken body. My voice is low, hoarse, but it cuts through the sudden, stunned silence of the crowd. “You wanted to parade me?” I gasp, my own breath coming in ragged pulls. “You wanted to show me off?” I gesture vaguely at your prone, shuddering form. “Now they see you. They see exactly what you are... my new toys.” I stand up, my legs unsteady but my will iron. I look down at you, at the champion reduced to a fetal position, then I turn my gaze to the crowd, and flex.
Dallas Jordan
I can’t bear to see the look of shock and disappointment on the fans face. I close my eyes tight as your breath hits my ear telling me I’m right where you want me, confirming you’ve taken complete control of my body. In a quick motion my body is pulled into the asker by my balls making me cry out and whimper before I’m slammed into the ground. The force makes my body bounce up and down on the canvas. My bones and muscles feel like they just shattered into a million pieces. I curl into a fetal position, reaching out, my legs push against the canvas, trying to crawl towards the ropes. I look out and see Adrian, a shocked look covers his beautiful face.
Dadicus
I watch you crawl. Every pathetic, shuddering inch across the canvas. Your hand reaches, your legs push, your body drags itself toward the ropes. I don’t stop you. I let you. I walk beside you, a slow, predatory stalk. My shadow falls over you, matching your painful progress stride for stride. I want the whole room to see this. I want them to watch their champion, their alpha, reduced to dragging his broken body through his own sweat and shame. The silence is thicker now, heavy with disbelief. That’s when I see it. Your eyes. They’re not looking for an escape. They’re locked onto a single face in the crowd. A man with a beautiful, shocked expression... horrified, yet unable to look away. Adrian.
Dadicus
A slow, cruel smirk spreads across my face. I lean down as you finally grasp the bottom rope, your fingers trembling as you try to pull yourself up. My lips brush your ear, my voice a venomous whisper meant only for you. “What do we have here, Jordan?” I murmur, my gaze flicking to Adrian and back to your pain-wracked face. “Who’s the hottie? What's his name? That your boyfriend? He came to see the champ. Let’s give him a front-row experience of how you really squirm.” You use the rope to try and haul yourself upright, a last, desperate act of defiance. That’s when I make my move. My hands shoot down and clamp around your ankles. With a brutal yank, I pull your legs out from under you. You grip on the rope becoming your only tether to being upright. You’re dangling now, held horizontal, exposed... completely vulnerable. A puppet on a very short string. “Let me hear you howl,” then I drive my boot forward with piston-force. THUD!!!
Dadicus
The impact is sickeningly precise. My boot connects with devastating accuracy right between your legs. The sound a visceral THUD!!! that seems to absorb into your body before echoing through the dead silence of the room. A sound tears from your throat that isn’t human... it’s a high, breathless shriek of pure, unadulterated agony that dies into a wet, choking gag. You drop like a stone, collapsing into a heap on the mat, both hands instinctively clutching your ravaged groin. You curl up; rocking slightly, making tiny, pitiful sounds with every shallow breath you can manage. I stand over you, looking down at the ruin I’ve made. Then I slowly turn my head. I find Adrian in the crowd again. I hold his horrified gaze, and I give him a small, cold, knowing wink.
Dallas Jordan
My body drags accept the rough canvas, my face wincing in pain, my upper body forced to use all of its energy so I’m not stalled in one place. I see your feet move along with me, tracking me like a hunter. I hear you whisper into my ear, referencing Adrian, noticing my eyes glued to him “fuck you” I moan under my breath as I reach for the rope to pull myself up. My arms wrap around the middle rope just as you grab onto my ankle pulling my legs back. My torso leans against the rope, body pulled out parallel to the ground. I look out to the crowd with my eyes glitter on Adrian. BAM! A loud thud echoes across the room just before I shriek in pain. A sound so horrendous and haunting that guys wince in the crowd. I hold back tears so the men don’t see me cry for the agonizing pain running through my body. My knees hit the ground, held steady for a second looking out before I fall to my side, curl up in a fetal position still groaning and whimpering like an injured puppy while you stand over me.
Dadicus
I stand over you, letting the silence after your scream hang heavy in the room. I let them all see you like this... broken, weeping, clutching yourself. I catch Adrian’s eye again. His eyes wide open... face is pale. Good. But I’m not done. The whimpers are just the start of the tune for my orchestra. “The show’s not over, champ,” I say, my voice flat and cold. “The crowd paid to see a show. Let’s give them one.” I kneel beside your trembling form, rocking side to side, your precious jewels your only concern. I take one of your legs. I fold it, bending the knee. Then I hook it behind your other knee, locking them together.
Dadicus
I get a firm grip on both your ankles. With a grunt of effort, I lift you by your locked legs. A lifted Boston Crab takes shape. I lean back, pulling your legs up and toward me, arching your spine backward over my shoulders. Your body is bent into a brutal, inverted ‘V’. Your arms dangle helplessly toward the mat. Your head slammed down on the mat floor. And there it is. On full, obscene display for the entire room to see your manhood, hard and battered now, bobs with every strained, shuddering breath you take. Every vein, every detail, is visible under the harsh lights. The crowd is dead silent, a mix of horror and rapt fascination. I adjust my grip, leaning back further, increasing the strain on your lower back. A fresh, choked gurgle escapes your lips. “This is your champion!” I shout, my voice raw but clear. “This is what’s left of him! Look at him! Mine for the taking!” I lean down, my lips close to your upside-down ear. My voice drops to a whisper only you can hear, sweet and vicious. “Every time he looks at you after tonight,” I murmur, nodding subtly toward Adrian’s frozen figure, “this is what he’ll see. You. Bent. Broken. And mine.” I give one final, cruel pull on your legs, stretching you to the very limit, ensuring the image is burned into every retina in the room before I decide what devastating move to follow.
Adrian_Romano: I walked in at a moment my man was up, giving my boyfriend a knowing smirk what seems now like weeks ago, but in reality the tide has turned in only a few moments, my expression shifting to sheer surprise as this other handsome fighter starts to manhandle my man by the balls, drawing out all those sounds. I can see Dallas' humiliation as it's promised the show will keep going on, but there's also an ache in my cock, feeling it get harder seeing that these guys both have a raw energy about the encounter. And here I am dressed as a spectator, just in a tank top and jeans, but I feel my world zoomed right into watching Dallas get rocked and controlled, biting down on my lip without realizing I'm doing it
Dallas Jordan
I’m laying on the ground, rocking side to side, holding my bulge and kicking my feet at the ground. I hear voices all around me but I’m in so much pain I can’t make out any of the words or sounds that is until my opponent gets in my hear and taunts me. I know by your words that this is far from over. I reach out for the canvas to try to pull myself forward. You let me crawl a little but before I can grab the rope, you pull me back. My leg is pulled back and trapped in your hold, my other locked behind me. I continue to moan and whimper, holding my throbbing cock and balls.
Dallas Jordan
My lower body is lifted up, stretched out like a whale being pulled from the water. My face presses down into the canvas, upping the humiliation. Then gravity pulls my cock down, leaving it flopping free in front of the crowd. I’m rock hard and it sways back and forth. So many times in this ring, my cock was feared, it was the Victor, it wrecked and fully destroyed manhood's. Now it’s on clear display, not in control, not impressive to the crowd. I hear you taunting me and boos rain down throughout the basement. Then your warm breather hits my ears and now you talk about Adrian “Bent. Broken. And mine.” My cock twitches with each word and a shocking gasp fold the room from the crowd followed by more whimpering as you tighten the hold stretching my spine to its limits
Dadicus
Your whimpers are a broken melody now, and I conduct them with every shift of my weight. But I’m bored of just holding you. I want to play... to have my way and let everyone see it. I feel your body tense, a last, instinctive resistance against the unbearable stretch. Perfect. With a grunt, I shift my balance. I don't just hold you; I move it. I drop back, lifting my legs up... while pulling your legs with me. Your locked legs drag across my shins as I reposition you. In one fluid, brutal motion, I immediately reconfigure the leverage.
Dadicus
My legs bend, becoming a platform. I lean back, pulling your legs down and apart. At the same time, I snake one arm under your chin and around your head. Your face is pulled back, your throat exposed. The Bow and Arrow Hold is cinched in. Your body is bent backward in a brutal arc over my legs. Your spine is under catastrophic tension. Your arms flailing around from the pressure. Then, I begin to bounce. rhythmic pulses of my hips and arms. Each bounce transfers through your stretched form, jolting your spine, shaking your dangling, helpless cock, making your trapped head bob against my hand. "Look at you," I taunt, my voice a low and intimidating "My little puppet. My little toy." I bounce a little harder, and a sharp cry is forced from your lips. "I own this ring. I own your title." I bounce again, making your whole body shudder. "I own every scream. Every tear." Another bounce, sharper. "And after tonight... he'll know I own you too."
Dallas Jordan
I sit there in your hold for what feels like an eternity with my hard cock throbbing and pulsing. Shocks of electric pain shoot through my spine. I try to hold back my grunts and groans, trying not to show the crowd how defeated I feel. You’re now toying with My body and the whole room can sense it. “Let me go…and go back to fucking Puerto Rico” I grunt through the pain You could easily end me right here, but instead you shift our bodies forcing me to look up at the ceiling.
Dallas Jordan
My back rests on your knees feeling them dig into the bones let my spine. All the memories of my victories, my belt, the asses I tore apart run through my memory. Everything I’ve worked for is slowly being dismantled. You pull on my chin and legs putting intense pressure on my already sore spine. “Uuhhhhh” I quietly moan, only you can hear me. A sadistic look come over your face and you start to bounce driving your knee deeper into my back. “AAAAHHHGGGG. OHHHHHHH” this time the men hear me. They hear their scream out in pain. My body and mind are at your mercy. “OOOOWWWW” I scream after each bounce. My mind bends after each taunt. Until finally “he’ll know I own you too” comes from your mouth forcing a tear to roll down my cheeks.
Dadicus
The whimpers and moans you try to swallow are my favorite part. Each choked-back sound is a battle you’re losing. Each gasp you fail to suppress is a surrender. My knees dig into your back, a relentless pressure on the vertebrae I’ve been trying to fold in half. Your plea to be let go, to send me back to Puerto Rico, is just fuel to my already burning desire. I adjust my grip, pulling your chin back further, arching your spine over my knees until I feel the subtle, terrifying give of ligaments pushed to their limit. A sadistic smile spreads across my face. That’s the key. The crowd sees the fight. They hear the moans and struggles. But I get the quiet moments. I get the whimpers they don’t. “Yeah,” I whisper, my voice a dark sarcastic tune. “Let me hear your victory chants, champ.” Then I bounce. A sharp, upward drive of my hips, grinding my knee deeper into the small of your back.
Dadicus
That’s when I change the game. My hand, which had been a vice on your thigh, drifts. It slides up your trembling leg, over your hip, and finds its new target: that thick, throbbing, rock-hard cock of yours, still standing at full attention amidst the ruin. A traitor to your pride. My fingers wrap around you. I don’t just hold you. I work you. As I bounce my knee into your spine again, I jerk my hand up your shaft in a brutal, punishing stroke. On the down-bounce, I slam my fist back down to the base of your balls with a force. Your legs, already buckling from the spinal torment, nearly give way entirely. A shattered, choked noise escapes your lips... “What’s wrong, champ?” I snarl into your ear, my voice dripping with malice as I repeat the motion: Bounce-jerk-up. Bounce-slam-down. “Has this Boricua got you by the balls?” Another vicious stroke, timed with another spinal crunch. “Does it feel better than his touch?” I whisper, the words venomous and intimate, for your ears only. “Does it? You little fucker.” I’m not just breaking your body now. I’m hijacking it. I’m turning your own involuntary, humiliating arousal into another weapon against you, proving to you and everyone watching that even in your defeat, your body betrays you for me. Every punishing stroke of my hand is a claim. Every gasp you make is a confession.
Dallas Jordan
The room falls silent. Guys look around confused on what to do, what to say, what they’re seeing in the ring. Deafening silence until I cry out “AAAAHHHHH PLEASE!” My scream echoes through the basement, my body is trending and shaking against you. Throughout this agonizing experience, my cock is the only part of me not shuddering, instead it stands at full attention bouncing in rhythm with your attacks on my back.
Dallas Jordan
I feel your warm hand slide up my leg, to my hip before finally wrapping around my hard pink cock. Your hand wraps around it like a snake, taking instant control with a vice grip on my skin. “Gaaahhh” your knees slams into my back while your hand slides up my shaft “OOOHHHH” What should feel like pleasure, having my cock jerked turns to heel when your bashes into my balls. My cock spits up pre on impact, throbbing in the air. Your whispers and taunts fuel my anger and humiliation. “Guuuuhhh” another deep groan releases from my body when your fists drive back into my balls. “Unnnnggggg fuck you!” I yell out when you mention Adrian, not by name but I know what you’re inferring to, the whole crowd does. Each jerk on my cock and slam down into my balls breaks down my mind more and more right alongside my back. My cock pulsates, ready to erupt when you squeeze my cock up and slam it back down again. I close my eyes and try to hold back releasing my cum.
Dadicus
My fist slams down into your balls again, and your cock spits another clear rope of pre-cum into the air. It’s a beautiful, disgusting testament to your broken state. You try to hold back, to close your eyes and will it away, but your body is screaming to give in. I won’t allow it. “Let me help you out,” I purr, my voice a dark contrast to the violent tension in my grip. My hand, slick with your pre-cum, releases your shaft and snakes down to your sack. My fingers don’t just grip; they dig in, squeezing your tender balls. A guttural, choked sound is torn from your throat. I let go of the bow and arrow but not the hold in your thick orbs. Your body, which had been arching slumps down, then slackens as the wave of nauseating pain overrides everything else. Now all the fight is focused on surviving the agony in your groin. “Don’t want the fun to end so fast,” I murmur, almost kindly, as if I’m doing you a favor.
Dadicus
Then I start to lift... by the very flesh in my grip. I pull back and upward by your balls, using them as a handle. Your body, already broken, offers little resistance. Your legs scramble uselessly against the canvas, trying to find purchase that isn’t there, trying to take the unbearable pressure off. With my other hand, I fist your sweat-soaked hair and yank your head back, forcing your face up toward the lights and the crowd. I want them to see it. I want Adrian to see it. The agony, the snot, the utter ruin painted across your handsome features. I squeeze and twist my grip on your balls. “Say it,” I snarl, my face inches from yours. “Say you are a fucking loser.” I lift you higher by your tortured flesh, your toes barely brushing the mat. Your legs flail weakly. “SAY IT!” I demand, my voice cracking through the silent room like a whip. My free hand comes down in a sharp, open-palmed SLAP!!! across your exposed ass cheek. The sound is obscenely loud. A mark of ownership. I squeeze your balls again, a vicious, pulsing pressure “Not one single drop leaks out until I say so,” I hiss. “Now tell them. Tell them all what you are.”
Dallas Jordan
Your hand finally slips from my cock, leaving my shaft slick with pre, my head throbbing and bright red, ready to explode. My cock sways back and forth, harder than it’s been in a long time. Your fingers tap along my body as your hand moves under my cock. The tips of your fingers wrap around my nutsac, digging into my aching balls “GGAAAAHHHHH” my hips raise pushing my cock and balls closer to you and you finally release me from your hold. I roll sideways down to the ground, my arms and face pressed against the canvas, resting on my knees with my ass in the air “let me go, you’ve made your point faggot” I groan under my breath so only you can hear.
Dallas Jordan
You offer me no time to recover before you start dismantling your toy again. This time, pulling my lower body up, the weight of my legs and ass is being pulled up by my balls. My feet press against the ground, my hands push my upper body up from the canvas, held in an upside down V. “OOOOOWWWWW MY BALLS!” My balls are pulled higher, pulling my feet off the ground, my legs kick and try to find solid ground to ease the pain. My head is yanked back, forcing me to look up at the crowd and my gaze immediately lands on Adrian. My face carries the visual pain that I’m feeling in my balls. My eyes are wide, mouth wide and whimpering as I look out to him. “GUUUHH PLEASE!” This time I scream for mercy, no longer whispering. I hear you whisper, ordering me to admit something I’ve never uttered in my life. My body maneuvers around like a newborn deer, unable to stabilize myself while you keep control of my manhood. SLAP “AAAHHHGGGG…I’m a loser!” I finally admit after my ghastly scream.
Dadicus
The words are a jagged shard of glass tearing from your throat. “I’m a loser!” . They’re not a whisper anymore. They’re a confession, ripped from you and broadcast to the entire world you built. I don’t let go. If anything, I pull harder, lifting you even higher by that tender, tortured sac, making your admission a physical truth. Your legs kick feebly in the air, a grotesque puppet dance. “Yes, you are,” I snarl, my voice low and guttural in your ear. “Now say it again. Louder. Let the guys in the back who paid to see a champion hear what they really got.” I don’t just hold you there. I parade you. Still gripping you by the hair and by the balls, I drag us both toward the ropes. It’s a clumsy, brutal shuffle, you contorted in mid-air, a living trophy of your own defeat. I stop at the edge, right against the taut middle rope.
Dallas Jordan
“UUUHHHH OHHHHHH” I cry out louder, a shriek that causes gasps throughout the crowd. My back legs are pulled up higher, feet kick up into the air, sliding against your sweaty body. My body shuffles to the other side of the ring, staring out to a different group of fans. More pain comes across my face as I look up at them. “ IM A LOSER!” I yell out before quietly sobbing. I see a couple guys unzip their jeans and slide them down their legs.
Dadicus
"Good little champ", I sneer. The sound of zippers sliding down in the crowd is a sweaty, visceral applause. They’re not just spectators anymore; they’re participants in your unraveling. I let go. Your body doesn't just crumple; it collapses, a puppet with its strings cut. You hit the mat with a heavy thud, curling instantly around your battered manhood, your sobs the only sound you have left. I let you marinate in it for a three-count. Let every whimper sink in. Let Adrian see you shattered at my feet. "But we're just getting started," I say, the promise cold and flat.
Dadicus
I don't give you a breath. My hand tangling once more in your sweat-soaked hair. I haul you up by it, dragging your limp, protesting form toward the ropes. You scramble weakly, your hands trying to pry at my wrist, but it's useless. I shove your head and shoulders through the middle ropes, so your torso is outside the ring, facing the jeering, aroused crowd. Then I grab both your arms, wrenching them back over the top rope. I pull, hard, until your shoulders scream with tension and your back forms a deep, painful arch. Your lower abs are pressed taut against the middle rope. I place my boots behind you, against the small of your back and ass. I lean my weight into them, using the ropes as a fulcrum to bend you further backwards, stretching you into a bow of pure agony. "What's wrong, Jordan?" I grunt, applying more pressure. Your body trembles, muscles quivering under the strain. "Not that flexible? A champion should be more... versatile."
Dadicus
To emphasize the point, I lift my right foot and slam my boot down between your shoulder blades. The impact drives you forward, which then snap you back into my waiting foot with even greater force. A choked cry is forced from your lips. I pull on your arms even harder, increasing the brutal backward stretch. "Ask your people," I snarl, my voice loud enough for the front rows to hear. "Ask them if they want to see your Pac-Man" I give a cruel, grinding twist of my boot against your lower spine. "Or has the mighty champion been reduced to a glitch? A little ghost, running from the real power?" I bounce my weight on you, making the ropes sing and your body jolt with each movement. You're not just beaten; you're displayed. A broken toy strung up for everyone to see exactly what happens when a real predator comes to your little underground kingdom. " NOW ASK!!"
Dallas Jordan
Like a bag of heavy potatoes, my body crumbles to the ground whimpering and holding my stretched out balls. I lay there motionless until your grab my hair and pull me back up. I stumble alongside you as you drag me to the ropes, a new side and a new group or men getting an up close look at your destruction. My upper body is forced through the ropes, looking out hearing more zippers, seeing more men strop to their briefs. My arms yanked back forcing my upper body up, pulling me back, stretching my back out against the hard rope. My arms are pulled back tighter, I grunt and groan with my hard cock pointed out to the crowd. I feel your heavy boot press into me, stretching my body out more “AAAAAHHHGGGGGGG” my head tilts back and I scream from the brutal pain in my back.
Dallas Jordan
“MMMMPPPHHHH” I grunt as your boot slams down hard into my back. “UUNNNNN NOOO” I whimper out. I stay trapped in these ropes praying that this ends soon. It’s one thing having my body destroyed, it’s another to know these men that once cheered me on are now getting hard watching what’s happening in the ring. “AAAHH DO IT WANT TO SEE UUHHHGGGG MY PAC-MAN!” I scream out, body shaking and trembling, hearing the laughs and snickers from the men.
Dadicus
The laughter from the crowd is a cold, cruel wave washing over you... a sound far worse than any boo and one you had not herd thrown your way. It’s the sound of your legend dissolving into a joke. “Yes, let me see his Pac-Man!” someone yells from the darkness, his voice hungry and raw. “Looks like we have a taker!” I call back, my voice a showman’s roar, twisted and vicious. The game has changed. This isn’t just a beating anymore. It’s a performance. And the crowd wants an encore. My boot lifts from your back, but the relief is fleeting. Before you can slump, I shift my weight. My leg pins you hard against the ropes, trapping your torso in a cruel bend. Then my hands move. They release your arms, letting them fall limp. Instead, they grip the middle rope on either side of your hips. I pull it up, then press it back... directly into your groin. The thick, braided cable digs into your already bruised and battered balls with unforgiving pressure. A high, strangled sound escapes your lips. Then, I lift.
Dadicus
Using the rope as a crude lever against your most sensitive flesh, I hoist you upward. Your toes drag on the mat, scrambling for purchase that isn’t there. Your body is suspended by this agonizing point of contact, your hard cock jutting out obscenely above the rope, on full display for the leering, hungry eyes. “Let’s see!” I shout, my voice carrying over your ragged gasps. “Let’s see if that Pac-Man can grab the two balls it’s missing!” I bounce you slightly on the rope, making the cable saw back and forth against your tender skin. The crowd howls with a mix of horror and dark, undeniable arousal. They see it all... the sweat gleaming on your carved body, the strain in your muscles, the utter helplessness, and that thick, traitorous hardness bobbing with every pained jerk of your body. “He’s hungry, boys!” I laugh, a harsh, barking sound. “His little ghost is hungry! But it looks like his power pellets are right here…” I give another savage, grinding lift with the rope, forcing a shattered cry from your throat. “…and they’re all mine.”
Dadicus
I hold you there, a living, suffering trophy raised on a pedestal of your own pain. The message is clear for Adrian, for the crowd, for you: every part of you is mine to play with. Your body, your pride, your symbols... all twisted into a joke for my amusement. And the worst part? The part that makes fresh sweat of shame roll down your face? Your cock, hard as iron, betrays you for everyone to see.
Dallas Jordan
Forced to ask the question that I don’t even understand. But that doesn’t stop the crowd from playing into your game. I hear the man call out to see my PAC-Man that’s already on full display. I continue to wince and whimper, my spine at the edge of breaking when your boot finally pulls away. Your leg quickly catches me, keeping me in the perfect position to show off my beaten body like your trophy. I feel the thick rope slide against my quads, raised higher and higher. “OOOOOOOWWWWW BITCH!” My head falls back and I scream as the rope presses into my aching full balls. My feet kick the ground until you steer to lift and my feet are lifted from the ground. My entire weight of my thick muscle body is held up just by my balls pressing against the rope. My head falls forward towards the crowd as I scream and cry out, enduring more pain than I could have ever imagined.
Dallas Jordan
You bounce the rope up and down and my cock can’t help but react to it. My slit opens with each bounce, leaking pre from my rock hard, red cock. I listen to the crowd cheering now, like they used to cheer for me when I would humiliate twinks night after night. Then I hear gasps from some guys who can hear and feel my pain. “GAAAAHHHH MY BALLS!” I cry out as you lift the rope again, showing off your ownership over me. I stay there trapped, balls aching, cock leaking, sweat running down my body and now tears running down my cheeks.
Dadicus
“GAAAAHHHH MY BALLS!” you scream, and it’s music to my ears. It’s the sound of my ownership being cemented. I let it hang. Let you dangle there, a masterpiece of pain, your sweat and pre mixing on the mat below. Then, I grant a sliver of mercy. My hands release the rope. You drop an inch, just enough for the brutal pressure to ease, and a choked sob of relief escapes you. Before you can even process the relief, my hand is in your chin, yanking your head back brutally. My leg keeps you pinned against the ropes, my body pressed against yours from behind. Our faces are inches apart, my breath hot on your cheek. “How are your balls feeling, champ?” I murmur, my voice a low, intimate rasp. “Got that rope all nice and wet?”
Dadicus
Then I lean in.... lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the corner of your mouth, down to your chin. And then I kiss you. My lips crush against yours, my tongue forcing its way into your mouth. It’s a claiming for your friend to see. A sealing of your defeat in the most intimate way possible. I hold it for a long, violating second before pulling back, leaving you breathless and defiled. “Shhh,” I whisper against your lips. “They’re all watching.” Still holding you by the chin, I use my other hand to hook my thumbs into the waistband of my own yellow briefs. In one swift motion, I pull them down. My own cock springs free, thick and heavy, an angry 8 inches of veined, hard proof of my own arousal in this brutal dance. I press it against you. I grind the hot, rigid length of it against the sweat-slicked small of your back, then lower, against the cleft of your ass.
Dadicus
I let you feel its weight, its heat, its implicit threat. “Feel that?” I growl into your mouth, my breath hot in your skin, but with barely restrained power. “That’s what your defeat does. That’s what your moans do. That’s what your little show does to me.” I rock my hips forward onto your skin, pressing myself against you, a blunt, undeniable promise of what’s to come. The crowd’s noise reaches a fever pitch... shocked gasps, furious boos, and lustful cheers all swirling together. “The rope was just the preview, Dallas,” I hiss, the words only for you. “This is the main event. And you’re going to feel every… single… inch.”
Adrian Romano
I've been watching since the moment I thought my man Dallas had the upper hand, but it seems to have slipped away and stayed gone, with the furry handsome fighter I don't know just piling on the abuse, the humiliation while I have to watch my stud struggle like this, his balls abused. You'd think I'd be furious, and I feel a heat on the back of my neck, but the other inescapable feeling is my cock shifting in my jeans while I watch this.
Dallas Jordan
The punishment to my balls continue, the weight of my 200lb body creating intense pressure on my nuts as they’re crushed into the ropes. I continue to whimper and groan like a wounded puppy. “AAAAAHHHHHH” I scream from the pain praying for this to end. And finally it does, the rope is lowered, my feet hit the ground and my balls finally have a bit of relief. The seconds of relief are just a tease as you yank back on my chin, curving my body in an angle that is unnatural. My cock and balls push outward towards the crowd while my head is pulled back to you. Your warm slimy tongue glides along my face making me squirm, making me feel smaller than ever. Your lips collide with mine, not in a passionate way, more in an ownership way. Like you are able to do whatever you want to my body.
Dallas Jordan
I feel movement from you behind me, you’re adjusting something then I hear a roar from the crowd. Guys shift around to get a look around me, trying to lay eyes on you. Then I feel it and know what got the crowd excited. I feel your thick hard Puerto Rican cock slide actor my back. Now the men have a good look at both of our cocks and you are not disappointing them. I can’t see it but it’s hard to believe how big it is. It feels like a monster rubbing against me. A hot sweaty damp monster ready to take over the destruction of my body. The crowd gets louder and louder, no longer my fans. My body trembles against the ropes almost sinking down to my knees.
Dadicus
You can't see it, but you can feel it... the thick, heavy heat of my cock sliding across your sweaty back. You hear their shift, their hungry murmurs turning to outright cheers. They're not your fans. They're my audience now. And I'm giving them a show. My hands are busy. One is fisted in your hair, holding your head in place. The other guides myself. I nudge the broad, swollen head of my cock against your clenched, unprepared entrance. You're tight. Tense. I lean close, my lips against your ear. "You're gonna feel all of it," I promise, my voice a dark whisper. "Every. Last. Inch." I pull back just enough to gather a thick wad of spit in my mouth. I let it fall, a silver string that lands on the head of my cock and drips onto your twitching hole.
Dadicus
I press forward again. The resistance is immediate, a tight ring of muscle clenching in desperate rebellion. I grind the thick mushroom head against you, pressing insistently, letting the pressure and the wetness work. I feel you tremble violently, a full-body shudder. Your hole spasms, trying to reject the invasion, but it's already yielding, stretching around the tip. That's when I see him. Adrian. His face is a mask of conflict... horror, fascination, a sickening arousal. His hand is moving subtly at his crotch. He's getting off on this. My eyes lock onto his. I don't look away. I want him to see every second. I want him to watch as I take what's his. With my gaze still nailed to Adrian's, I push... as I f fucking two people at the same time.
Dadicus
There's a brutal, burning stretch, a moment of impossible tightness, and then a gut-wrenching give as I tear my way inside you. Your body arches violently against the ropes, a silent scream etched into every muscle. A ragged, broken gasp is all that escapes your lips. I'm in. All the way in. Buried to the hilt inside you. I go still for a heartbeat, letting you feel the full, devastating stretch of my girthy 8 inch Cock, letting Adrian see your face contorted in a mixture of agony and unwanted, shocking sensation. My grip on your hair tightens, forcing your head to turn, forcing your eyes to look directly at him. "You like that cock, don't you?" I whisper into your ear, my voice thick with dominance. I don't wait for an answer. I start to move.
Dadicus
I pull back, almost all the way out, feeling your inner walls cling to me, then slam back in with a hard, driving thrust. Then again. And again. I set a punishing, rhythmic pace, each stroke a brutal reclaiming of your body. The sound is wet, obscene, underscored by your choked, rhythmic grunts. "Show him," I snarl, my thrusts jarring your words out of you. "Show him how much you enjoy it. Let him see your face. Let him see what happens to his champion." My eyes never leave Adrian's. I see the flicker in his gaze, the swallow in his throat, the subtle shift in his posture. I lean in, my lips brushing your ear as I fuck you, my words meant for you but my eyes holding his. "I wonder what he's thinking," I muse, my voice a cruel and mocking between thrusts. "Maybe he's the one who wishes he was in your position." I drive deep, making you jolt.
Adrian Romano
I can't look away. My hands at my sides, but I'm barely aware of it now. All I see is the way Dallas's body takes it, the way his hole stretches around that thick cock, the way his muscles clench and release in rhythm with Dadicus's thrusts. I watch his face, that mask of pain and something else, something darker that makes my cock throb. My eyes drift up Dadicus's body. The sweat glistening on his chest, the coarse hair matted there, the way his abs flex with each brutal stroke. He's not just fucking Dallas. He's claiming him. And the way he looked at me when he pushed inside... that hunger wasn't just for Dallas. It was for me too. I should be sick. I should be furious. Instead, I'm rock hard, my palm pressed flat against my own arousal, watching this man take this once powerful stud Dallas who's dominated me, but now looks totally helpless and like he's beginning to enjoy his hard use.
Dallas Jordan
I hear them cheering you on and that hurts me more than any body pain could. Your thick cock slaps against my back threatening me with each thump. My head is held in place, looking out at Adrian, that gorgeous body that I’ve fallen in love with that I’ve fucked every night for years. Now he’s looking staring back at me. Staring at my beaten down body, my throbbing cock, bruised balls as a cock threatens my hole. I feel the warm spit land on the side of my hole before your cock head probes me. It’s thick and powerful, much bigger than my tight hole. I look out and mouth to words to him “help me”. Then I feel your cock push against me. I clench my hole fighting for survival then it happens. Your cock forces its way inside, popping through my tight hole. My eyes widen and jaw drops “NOOOOO OHHHH FUCK PLEASE NOOO!” I scream only to be met with laughter and cheers. Adrian stands still, eyes glued to the spectacle that’s taking place in the ring.
Dallas Jordan
“GUUUUUUHHHHHH OOOOHHHHHH! I groan loudly as your Puerto Rican cock pushes into me inch by inch splitting open my tight hole. It goes deeper and deeper, like it’s never going to end. So deep, so thick “uhhh my…ass” I whimper quietly so only you can hear. My eyes roll back in my head, my mouth hangs open, my face beaten and contorted as I stare out at Adrian. Your cock stays steady deep in my hole, making a home for itself inside me. “It’s..so…big” is the only thing I can murmur through the pleasure and pain radiating through my body. I feel the thick meat pull out, leaving my hole feel empty before you drive your cock back inside me. My head lifts up “AAAAHHHGGGGGG” your cock rips me open wider, deeper. Your thrusts pick up, violently slamming in and out of me. My scream turns to whimpers and moans with each thrust into me. Your big full balls slap against my ass while my own are bruised and ache against me. Your warm lips brush against my ear, warm breath rushing past me. I look out at Adrian “I’m…sorry” I mouthed the words so only he can see them your fat cock slams into me and I see my boyfriend rubbing his own cock through his pants. That moment torments me. I realize he’s not worried about me, my body, my ass, my manhood. He’s fucking hard and mesmerized watching me get humiliated in my own area a. “GUUUUUHHHHH” I grunt and cry out as your cock slams deep inside me.
Dadicus
My fingers slide from your sweat-slicked hair, down the line of your jaw. I find your mouth hanging open in a broken pant, and I don’t ask. I claim that, too. My fingers hooking into the corners of your lips, stretching them. “Open,” I command. I push my fingers past your teeth, into the wet heat of your mouth. “Show them how my new fucktoy loves to suck.” I press down on your tongue, my other hand slithers around your neck a vise asserting my dominance, holding your head steady for Adrian to see. Your eyes are glazed, swimming with a mess of pain and unwanted pleasure. I work my fingers in and out of your mouth in a crude mimicry of the rhythm my hips are pounding into your ass. Each deep thrust matches the push of my fingers.
Dadicus
I lean in, my lips finding the hard ridge of your trapezius muscle. I bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, to brand the muscle that once flexed for your victory poses. Then I soften the bite into a open-mouthed kiss against the reddening skin, a cruel parody of tenderness. “He’s not saving you,” I growl into your neck, my thrusts never faltering, each one driving you harder into the ropes. “He’s enjoying this. Look at him.” I force your head to keep his gaze, my fingers still deep in your mouth, so you have no choice but to watch Adrian. Watch his hand moving faster over the bulge in his pants, his eyes wide and dark, fixed on the spectacle of your ruin. On the way your body jerks with every one of my thrusts. On my fingers fucking your mouth. “He’s not seeing a champion,” I snarl, picking up speed, pistoning into you with a force that makes the ring ropes shake. “He’s seeing a hole. My hole. And he’s loving every second of it.”
Dallas Jordan
My body tenses as your hand slides down my jaw, almost in a kind sensual way. They wrap around my chin then quickly slide along my lips and yank my mouth open “NOOO NOOO” I scream before your fingers slide into my mouth, deeper and deeper until I start to gag on you. My head is held in place looking out at the crowd. All the men have circled around this side of the ring with Adrian standing front and center. Your fingers slide in and out of my mouth in rhythm with your powerful thrusts deep into my ass. Tears form at the corner of my glazed eyes and trickle down my face. “Guuuhhh” groaning onto your mouth as your teeth sink into my trap, leaving a red mark with intentions of your teeth so the world knows I’ve been branded by you. Your whispers are warm against my ear, telling me how much my boyfriend is enjoying watching my ruin in the ring. I look out at Adrian with tears rolling down my cheeks, a hand stuffed in my mouth, my eyes rolled back while my once tight ass Is being cored out. Adrian is staring as if he’s in a daze with his hand rubbing his bulge, a bulge that I can clearly see is at full strength. Suddenly your fucking becomes more brutal, more intense as you slam into me harder and deeper. My whole body rocks back and forth into the ropes and against you. I scream louder into your fingers, muffling me enough so the men can’t tell if I’m moaning or dying.
Adrian Romano
My feet are rooted to the floor, my hands frozen at my sides, and all I can do is watch. Watch the way his body convulses with each brutal thrust, the way his once-proud muscles tremble and strain against the ropes. He's not my champion anymore. He's not the man who pinned me to the mat last season, who made me feel small and weak with just a look. He's a fucktoy.
Adrian Romano
And the worst part? I'm rock hard, my cock straining against my pants, aching and throbbing in a way it hasn't in years. I can't look away from the way Dadicus owns him, the way that thick Puerto Rican cock splits him open over and over, claiming every inch of that once-invincible body. My hand drifts down, pressing against the bulge, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating through the fabric.
Adrian Romano
I lift my gaze to Dadicus. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and predatory, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips. There's a part of me that wants to rage, to scream, to charge the ring and rip him off Dallas. But there's another part—a darker, hungrier part—that's fascinated. Disbelief wars with anger, and both are drowned out by a rising tide of raw, primal arousal. He's not just fucking Dallas. He's breaking him. Turning him into something less than a man. And some part of me is wondering what this Alpha must be thinking staring at me right now.
Dadicus
The raw, ragged scream you try to choke around my fingers is the purest sound in the world. My hand releases your hair and snakes down, grabbing both your wrists. I yank your arms back, giving myself a stronger grip on your hips. The new angle lets me sink even deeper, each thrust a targeted assault. I keep aim on that sweet, hidden spot inside you, that bundle of nerves that betrays your mind with unwanted bliss. My rhythm never stops. It becomes a brutal, mechanical piston. In. Out. In. Out. The wet, slapping sound of my flesh against yours, the creak of the ropes, your muffled cries... My eyes lift from the sweat-slicked back of your neck. They find Adrian again, front and center. He’s not hiding it anymore. His hand is openly palming himself through his pants, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. Disbelief, horror, and a dark, hungry fascination war on his beautiful face.
Dadicus
I lock onto his gaze and I don’t let go. A slow, predatory smirk spreads across my lips. I drag my tongue over them, a deliberate, obscene gesture meant just for him. With each thrust into Dallas, I’m fucking Adrian’s mind, too. Controlling two men with one cock. “How does it feel,” I grunt, my voice strained with effort but dripping with malice, “to have a real man inside of you?” I punctuate the question with a particularly deep, grinding thrust that makes your knees buckle. “Yeah… you feel that, don’t you? My fucking little jobber.” My eyes stay glued to Adrian’s as I speak to Dallas, making it clear who the message is really for. “Look at them,” I snarl into Dallas’s ear, my thrusts never slowing. I nod toward the front row where several men, emboldened, have their hands down their pants, stroking themselves to the show. “Your people. Getting off on your downfall. On the sight of you taking my dick like a born bitch.”
Dadicus
I lean in closer, my words a hot, private promise just for you, but my eyes still holding Adrian captive. “But this?” I whisper, my hips snapping forward with a force that drives a sharp cry from you. “Filling you up? Marking you from the inside? That’s… that’s going to feel so good.” I pull almost all the way out, letting you feel the awful emptiness, before slamming back in to the hilt. I increase the pace, the force, becoming a relentless machine. This is what happens to champions. This is what happens to anyone who stands in my way.
Dallas Jordan
I gag, choke and scream around your fingers. The mix of sounds is terrifying and erotic all at the same time. My eyes roll around unable to focus on any one person, nearly glazed over from the brutal pounding my ass is taking. My arms are pulled back to you, I show no resistance, just letting you have your way with me. Your cock drives deeper inside my hole “UHHH…UHHHH…UHHHH…UHHHH” I groan and yelp with each hard slam into my body. With each thrust, your big full balls slap into mine, another small way your body is destroying my manhood. My eyes dart around the room, seeing a blurred picture of men partying, cheering, jerking to my demise. Your breath is warm against my ear and your questions fuck with my mind. How does it feel? Your cock Is pummeling my prostate and I’m trying not to blow my load. But I know I can’t say that, I can’t show that what started as pure pain is now starting to feeling fucking amazing. Instead, I groan and scream “GUUUUHHHHH” a terrifying groan releases from deep inside my lungs. “A real man…inside me” you mean the only man inside me. My body wasn’t made to be a jobber bitch yet here I am.
Dallas Jordan
“AAAAAHHHGGGG OHHHH” that was one deeper than my insides could handle and the crowd can see it as my knees buckle. I look out like I’m told, my eyes dart around the room. Every man in the crowd is stroking his cock, enjoying the sight of my destruction, destruction of my mind and body. My body thrusts forward with your hard fucks. My cries making their cocks leak. Everyone except Adrian, who’s eyes are glued to you while he rubs the outside of his pants. I mouth the words “help me” to him hoping he comes in to stop this madness.
Adrian Romano
See Dallas' lips move. The words hit me, snapping something loose in my chest. Pull my eyes away from Dadicus, away from the spectacle, and I see Dallas. Not the champion. Not the man who made me feel taken and wrecked, just a broken, trembling body strung up in ropes, his hole gaping and ruined. And he's looking at me. My feet move before I can think. I push through the crowd, ignoring the jeers and the hands that grab at my arms. I'm at the ring apron in seconds. I vault over the ropes, landing hard on the canvas. Dadicus straightens, still buried inside Dallas, that smug smirk plastered across his face. I step up to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his sweat-slicked chest. My heart is hammering, my cock still painfully hard against my thigh, but I force my voice steady. "I think you made your point here, bro."
Dadicus
Your pleas are just background noise now, lost in the wet slap of skin and the crowd's hungry cheers. My rhythm is a brutal, unrelenting fuck, drilling into you with a force that makes your vision blur and your body tense. I see the conflict in your eyes... the pain twisting into something else, something shameful and it only makes me drive deeper. My gaze stays locked on Adrian as he watches, frozen, from the crowd. I see the exact moment your silent "help me" reaches him. The shock that tightens his handsome face, the conflict in his eyes... it’s delicious. For a second, I think he’ll stay put, too turned on or too scared to move. But then he moves.
Dadicus
He shoves through the crowd, a blur of anger and desperation. He vaults over the top rope, landing on the canvas with a thud that vibrates through my feet. The assault on your body doesn't stop. If anything, his arrival, his raw, furious energy, makes me harder as pre cum starts to lube your whole. My thrusts become even more possessive, even more brutal, a deliberate display for the new audience of one. He steps right up to me, chest heaving, his eyes blazing. He’s close enough I can smell the sweat and adrenaline on him. “I think you made your point here, bro.” His voice is steady. He’s trying to sound tough, to reclaim some dignity for his broken boyfriend. It’s almost cute. I don’t answer right away. Instead, I give one last, grinding thrust, burying myself to the hilt inside you, feeling your body seize around me. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, I pull out.
Dadicus
The sound is obscenely wet in the sudden relative quiet. A strand of my pre-cum, stretches between my slick tip and your gaping, used hole before snapping. I let him see it. Let him see the physical proof of the violation. I turn to face him fully, my glistening cock standing thick and proud, my body gleaming with sweat. I offer a casual, almost friendly smile. “Hey,” I say, my voice a rough pant. “It was No Holds Barred. No hard feelings, right?” I extend my right hand toward him, as if for a respectful, post-match handshake. A gesture of understanding between warriors. His eyes, predictably, dart down to my offered hand. It’s the oldest trick in the book. And he falls for it. The moment his gaze leaves my eyes, I move. My left leg coils and snaps forward like a whip. My boot connects with a sickening, perfect THUD right between his legs.
Dadicus
All the air leaves Adrian’s lungs in a choked, silent scream. He doubles over, hands instinctively flying to his devastated crotch. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I snarl, the fake camaraderie gone, replaced by pure, cold malice. He’s bent over, vulnerable, gasping. I don’t give him a second to recover. I step in, swing my arm in a wide, clotheslining arc, and catch him across the throat with my forearm. The impact lifts him off his feet. He flips backwards, over the top rope with a heavy THUD!! and a groan from the crowd. I don’t even watch him land.
Dadicus
I turn my attention back to you, Dallas, who is still slumped against the ropes, a broken, gasping mess. I step close again, grabbing your hair to yank your head up, forcing you to look at the empty space where your boyfriend just was. “Looks like your knight in shining armor,” I whisper, my breath hot on your ear as I line my cock up with your entrance again, “I’m not finished with my prize.” I drive back into you, hard, reclaiming my property with a violence that says the interruption only made me angrier, and more determined to break everything you have left as I pull out and uppercut your precious balls once again. " I think is time I have some fun with your Knight in shining armor"
Adrian Romano
You immediately show me what you think of my 'strongly worded letter' to call you out with the fact that Dallas' has had enough, he's rock hard, but I know his pride is destroyed. But none of that matters when there's searing pain in my balls, shaft, doubling over into an immediate throat-punch, there's so much pain and shock as I fly out of the ring, handled like Dadicus is swatting a mosquito and crashing down hard...but what gets me up quick is my rage. Breathing, trying to recover, I keep my rage quiet for the moment..
Adrian Romano
Having been watching the action in my white tank and black jeans, the kind that get everyone looking at me. I push myself to my knees, and up, the guys surprised I took that and am still going. Slowly peel up my tank top from the bottom to show off my lightly tanned perfect toned body. Slide back in the ring like a panther, I hear, see how Dadicus is focused on pushing my man again. So I step softly and take my moment to strike: I wrap my tank top around Dadicus' neck and pull back hard, legs trying to find his at the same time and drag him away from Dallas while I immediately go for something just as brutal as he did to me: stealing all his air as fast as I can.
Dallas Jordan
Your thrusts seem to go harder, deeper, more powerful and aggressive. Your cock is tormenting my insides with each brutal push inside me. I watch Adrian make his way to the ring and I finally have hope and internally I’m just glad he hasn’t taken a look at this and disowned me. I feel the ring shake when Adrian flips over the rope, ready for this fucker to pull out. Instead the fucking and the pain intensifies. “AAAAAHHH OHHHHH FUCK PLEASE!” I scream out as it body slams into mine hearing the slapping of two sweaty slicked bodies colliding. “GGUUUUUHHHHH” your cock delivers one final thrust inside me, coring out my insides, digging in deep before you finally pull out. My body collapses onto the rope, arms hanging over, hole gaped wide. I don’t know what’s happening around me but I hear a groan that sounds like Adrian and I instantly lose hope.
Dallas Jordan
I look out into the crowd listening to their cheers as you flip Adrian over the ropes giving him a quick exit. My hair is yanked and I wince forced to look up at the men all jerking their cocks to my humiliating demise. Your cock slams back inside me with a force like I’ve never experienced. Not an easy slide in, a hard powerful thrust that makes my shrieks echo through the gym. “OOOHHHH MY ASSS!” I scream out as you deliver the most excruciating thrusts I’ve ever experienced. Tears roll down my cheeks and it feels like this will never end, like my hole will never adjust to your raging cock. Then it stops and your cock pulls out, my hole quivers and contracts. “Uhhhhhhh” I let out a soft groan while I listen to the men laughing at my expense. Then fire shoots through my balls as you uppercut me. As if breaking my ass wasn’t enough for you, you take a brutal shot at my once proud champion nutsac. “GUUUUHHHHH FUCK!” I yell out and drop to my knees, chest resting on the middle rope with arms hanging out of the ring.
Dadicus
The world narrows to two points of white-hot sensation: the sickening crunch of my fist burying itself in Dallas's nuts, and the sudden, brutal constriction around my throat. One second I'm towering over your broken form, watching you collapse over the rope, a high pitched moan escaping your lips... the sound of pure agony. The next, fabric... rough, sweat-damp cotton... whips around my neck from behind and yanks back with savage force. My head snaps back. Air vanishes. Adrian. Instinct takes over. My hands fly up, jam my fingers between the tightening tourniquet of his tank top and my trachea. I don't fight the pull. I lean into it, throwing my weight backward against his body. It loosens the pressure for a crucial half-second... enough to suck in a burning, ragged gasp. He's trying to choke me out, to drag me off you... off my prize. Rage boils up, hotter than the lack of air. This pretty boy thinks he can sneak me? Still leaning back into him, I twist at the waist, a violent corkscrew motion. My elbow drives backward, aiming for his gut. It connects with a solid thud. He grunts, his grip faltering for a split second. That's all I need.
Dadicus
With the pressure momentarily eased, I wrench my head sideways and down, using my own strength and his momentum against him. The fabric slips. My left hand shoots up, grabs the wrist of the arm holding the shirt, and peels it away from my neck. At the same time, my right fist, already coiled pistons out in a short, vicious hook into Adrian's side, right over his kidney. He doubles over with a pained gasp, his beautiful face contorted. Now he's the one choking... on pain. I'm free. No fancy moves. No wrestling holds. Just pure, animal violence. I grab the front of his head and yank him forward, off-balance, and at the same time drive my knee up once with a hard thud, twice... THUD!!! deep into his gut. "you cheap little weasel" I grunt out
Adrian Romano
The crowd initially shocked when Dadicus' face registered the harsh move, "You were cheap first you furry bitch" I go hard at trying to choke his air off but his muscles leap into action, a hard hit at my flexed gut, a groan, "unfh.." he peels the shirt away and flips around driving a brutal hit into my side, the pain radiating and the guys seeing the satisfaction drain from my face, scruffy face caught up in pain, bent over , smelling the lusty scent from this hard stud and then UNFF UNHFHH those knees bash my perfect smooth abs over and over, I claw fingers into his arms and try and shove him to the rope but it lacks force after shocking me with so much pain.
Dadicus
Adrian's fingers claw at my arms, desperate, fading resistance. The knees to his gut knocked the wind right out of him. I can see it in his eyes... the shock, the pain, the dawning realization that his jumped into a fight you need to survive. He try to shove me toward the ropes, a last-ditch effort to create space. It’s pathetically weak. I don’t even budge. Instead, my hand snaps up and seizes his wrist. I don’t pull away; I twist. I rotate his arm inward, applying vicious pressure to the joint. He grunt, His body turning with the forced movement, exposing his back. In one fluid, brutal motion, I duck under his trapped arm. At the same time, my other arm snakes around his neck from behind, locking his head in a deep, inverted headlock. Adrian's body is bent backwards, his balance completely gone. I drop. My body falls, pulling him with me. I arch my back, using my own spine as a fulcrum. His back and neck slam across the small of my spine with a sickening CRACK that echoes louder than any crowd noise. The inverted backbreaker.
Dadicus
His body doesn’t just land; it bounces off mine before crashing to the canvas in a heap. I push myself to my feet immediately, standing over him. I’m a hunter... and wounded prey is the most fun... specially when it looks as delicious as Adrian. I wait. I let him stir. I let that first spark of consciousness, of pain, of the stupid will to get back up, flicker in his eyes. I hear him groan, his hands scrambling against the mat. He push himself up to his hands and knees, his head hanging low. That’s when I strike. I take two quick steps and leap, swinging my arm in a clothesline that doesn’t just knock him down... it deletes him. My forearm catches Adrian across the throat with the force of a truck. His head snaps back violently. his feet leave the mat. He flip completely, a full 180 degrees, before crashing down onto his back with a thunderous THUD that shakes the ring.
Dadicus
Adrian lie there, utterly still except for the ragged, shallow rise and fall of his chest. The crowd, which had been roaring, falls into a stunned hush. I step over him, my boot on his head. I look down at his broken, beautiful form, "who said you could get back into the ring pretty boy" I grunt... then I turn my gaze to Dallas, who is still draped over the ropes “Told you you’d get your turn,” I say, my voice cold and flat. I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck. “Now… where were we?”
Dallas Jordan
After a few minutes of relief, I pull my chest off the rope and kneel there, slumped, whole body in pain. I slowly crawl along the rope to the corner I grab the middle rope to pull myself up. My arms give out and my ass drops to the canvas “UHHHHG” I grunt and groan as the canvas damages my sore fucked ass. I watch my sexy boyfriend get manhandled just like I did. My mind is telling me to get up and help but my body doesn’t react. It just sits there, hard as a rock.
Adrian Romano
My world got totally rocked manhandled around the ring like that, Dadicus moves so strong and fast, my strategy backfiring making him more and more angry and acts out his sadistic fantasy with my tanned toned body, squirming and panting on the canvas, that boot on my face turns my face red, he steps over me and I muster strength to roll onto my side and grab that leg as hard as I can.
Dadicus
Adirans hand snaps around my ankle, fingers digging in with a desperate, final grip. A last gasp of defiance from the pretty boy on the mat. Admirable but pointless. I don't give him the satisfaction of a struggle. Instead, I use his grip as an anchor. I shift my weight and drive my other knee upward. To the face. The first strike is a savage CRUNCH!!, my kneecap connecting squarely with his jaw. Adrian' head snaps back, his grip loosening instantly. I don't let him fall back. I immediately bring my knee up and down again. THUD!!!. The second impact is harder, a brutal hammer blow to the same spot. A wet, gurgling sound escapes his lips. The third knee comes almost as an afterthought, a final, contemptuous stamp. CRACK!!!. It lands on his brow, snapping his head sideways. his head lols, body goes limp, and his hand fall away from my leg. He crumples to the matt floor. A broken doll in the center of the ring.
Dadicus
My focus, pivots from your motionless form to the corner. Dallas. He's managed to pull himself up, clinging to the turnbuckle, his body heaving with ragged breaths. His eyes are wide, having just watched his last hope get kneed into unconsciousness. There is no pause. No taunt. No warning. I cross the ring... you see me coming, try to raise your arms, but your too slow, too broken. My first boot slams into your chest with a sound like a dropped sack of grain. All the air whooshes out of you in a single, choked gasp. You double over, but I don't let you fall and drive my boot into your sternum again. THUMP!!. Again. CRACK!!. Again. THUD!!. It's not a measured attack. It's a frenzy. A relentless, piston-like stomping. Each impact drives you deeper into the corner, each one stealing more of your breath, more of your will. Your hands flail weakly, trying to shield yourself, but my boots find their mark between your arms. The crowd's noise fades into a distant roar. There is only the rhythm of my boots meeting your flesh, the sickening sound of impacts, and your wheezing.
Adrian Romano
The crowd gasps as Dadicus responds to my attempt to pull him back with three harsh knees to my jaw making the pain radiate from head to toe, louder groans rush out of me when I feel him putting me down into the canvas and making my shirtless sweaty body bounce a couple times from those additional hits, Dallas having beckoned me in here and now I got it just as bad as he did, I stir, groan, look up, see him taking it hard again, not being able to stop Dadicud from abusing his ripped furry body like it's an toy for abuse.
Dadicus
The world narrows to the two broken forms before me. Dallas, slumped in the corner like a discarded doll, his breath coming in wet, ragged hitches. Adrian, stirring on the mat, a groaning mess of what was once defiant beauty. The fury from their little interruption hasn't faded; it’s been refined into a cold, precise cruelty. My boots carry me to the corner, where Dallas hangs onto the ropes, your eyes glassy with pain and defeat. I fist my hand in your sweat-soaked hair and yank your head up. Your neck offers no resistance. “Look,” I command, my voice a low growl. I force your gaze across the ring, to where Adrian is pushing himself weakly onto his hands and knees. “Look at your white knight. Your backup. Look at what’s left of him.” I lean in close, my soft lips a shocking contrast against the violence as they brush the shell of your ear. My voice drops to a whisper only you can hear, a venomous promise. “Let’s see how much he enjoys a good fuck.”
Dadicus
I press a hard, claiming kiss to your cheek, a brand of ownership, before shoving your head back against the turnbuckle. Your eyes stay open, locked on Adrian... I’ll make sure of that. My focus snaps back to Adrian. He’s managed to get to his knees, swaying, one hand pressed to his face. He looks up just in time to see me coming, but he’s too slow, too broken. I grab him. My hand tangles in his dark, sweaty hair and I wrench him up with a brutal jerk. A pained cry escapes his split lips. Before he can even think to resist, I spin him, pulling him back against my chest. My other arm snakes under his throat and locks around his neck in a vise-like grip. The dragon sleeper is on in an instant, his head trapped in my sweaty and musky armpit, my biceps flexing against his windpipe.
Dadicus
He thrashes weakly, his hands clawing at my forearm, but I simply drop my weight back, bending him over my hip, using my leg behind his back for leverage. He’s arched backwards, completely vulnerable, his toned, tattooed torso exposed to the lights and to Dallas’s horrified gaze. “Shhh,” I hiss, my eyes locked on Dallas in the corner. “Watch this, champ. Watch how I handle pretty things.” My free hand, begins to explore Adrian’s body. My fingers trail over the slick sweat on his ribs, tracing the lines of a tattoo there. I drag my fingertips down the hard plane of his stomach, over the trembling abs, until I find one of his perky, exposed nipples. I pinch it. Hard. Not enough to tear, but enough to make him jerk in my hold, a fresh gasp of pain and humiliation escaping him. I twist slowly, deliberately, making sure Dallas sees every second of it from across the ring.
Dadicus
“See that?” I call out to Dallas, my voice carrying over Adrian’s choked grunts. “See how he jumps? He’s sensitive.” I pinch harder, and Adrian’s body arches against his will, a silent scream tightening his throat under my arm. “Bet he liked it rough before. But you were gentle with him.” I switch my attention back to Adrian, my mouth against his ear. “But you’re not his gentle champion anymore, are you? You’re the guy who got him into this ring. And look what I’m doing to him... I saw what you were doing” To emphasize the point, I slide my hand from his nipple down, over the defined V of his hips, and cup him firmly through his jeans. He’s still hard. A traitorous, shameful arousal that betrays him just as much as Dallas’s did. I squeeze, and he shudders violently. “He’s still hard for it. Even like this.” I look back at Dallas, a cruel smile on my face. The spectator now. The helpless watcher. I have his lover in a submission hold, my hand on his cock, his body a toy for my amusement. The roles are perfectly, painfully reversed. “This is what happens when you send boys to do a man’s job,” I snarl, tightening the sleeper hold just a fraction more, making Adrian’s kicks grow weaker. “He wanted to save you. Now he’s just part of the show.”
Adrian Romano
When Dadicus comes in and grabs my hair, for a moment my glassy dazed eyes lock with his, there's nothing I can say since the fight has been beaten out of me and now it's just my sweaty hard tanned body in Dadicus' grip. I grip at this older furry stud, but more for something to hold onto, I can't pull away, my other arm flails and I'm slowly bent back into a dragon sleeper, painful exposing hold where Dadicus can hear me groan into his pit, but with another groan I have to start breathing in his masculine scent, that's when my body shivers and he can feel me breathing deeper, the goosebumps on my upper pec , that's right when he starts to grope me in front of my lover, abs, pecs, abs, back to pecs. Then he's gripping a hard nipple and pinching it "fuuuuuck" I groan into his pit and jerk and jump as the slow twist has me breathing in deeper and my cock getting harder
Adrian Romano
From in that pit, I hear the muffled sounds of Dadicus calling out to Dallas while I buck upwards , grunting when he goes after my nipple like that and then taunts Dallas about it, back arching. I hear this winner call out about being rough, makes me twist and turn in this pit, but the more I inhale, the more my cock feels it. Feeling my senses under attack. When my long curved shaft is groped, my sweaty body falls back towards Dadicus, arches up, falls, arches up, groaning, starting to acknowledge my arousal at how my attack was repelled and just got me manhandled this hard. All for trying to save Dallas who couldn't even save himself. My mind swirling about where this sleeper is going, then he tightens it and my legs just kick and this stud, Dallas and the crowd can all see me weakening and throbbing in the brutal dragon.
Dadicus
I feel it the moment it happens... a subtle, then undeniable, hardening against my palm through the rough denim of his jeans. Your body, which had been trembling in pain and resistance, now betrays you with a different kind of tension. A deep, shivering arch of your back presses you tighter against me. The goosebumps on your pecs, the hitched, deeper breaths drawing my scent deeper into your lungs... it’s not just survival instinct anymore. “What do we have here?” I murmur, my voice a low, predatory rumble against the side of your head trapped in my pit. My hand, which had been groping your torso, slides down with deliberate slowness. I rub the heel of my palm over the prominent bulge in your jeans, feeling the thick, eager length of you strain against the fabric. “You enjoy the spectacle, don’t you?” I whisper directly into your ear, my words hot and intimate. “Watching him break… got you all worked up.”
Dadicus
My fingers find the button of your jeans. With a sharp pop, it comes undone. The zipper follows, a slow, teeth-grating rasp that feels louder than the crowd. I tug the jeans down your hips, past your thighs, letting them pool around your knees. The white trunks beneath are strained thin, the outline of your cock a stark, demanding curve against the fabric. There’s nothing left to the imagination. My hand bypasses the waistband, caressing the sweat-slick skin of your hip, the defined V leading down. Then, it slips inside. My fingers wrap around you. You’re fully hard, hot, and throbbing in my grip. A choked gasp vibrates against my armpit.
Dadicus
I lower my head, my lips finding the perky nipple I’d tortured earlier. This time, I don’t pinch. I suck it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around, then gently nibble. Your whole body jerks in the sleeper hold, a full-body spasm of shock and sensation. Your cock jumps in my hand. “Look, Dallas,” I call out, my voice slightly muffled against Adrian’s skin but clear enough to carry. I lift my head, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his glistening nipple. “He loves it. See how he jumps for me?”
Dadicus
To prove it, I move my thumb. I swipe it over the slick head of his cock, feeling the wetness there, and rub slow, torturous circles over his pee slit. Over and over. A broken, whimpering moan escapes Adrian’s lips. I pull my hand from his trunks, leaving him achingly empty. My grip on his neck loosen just enough Then, I spin him slightly in my hold, just enough to get access to his mouth. I crash my lips onto his... it’s an invasion. My tongue forces its way past his lips, past his teeth, claiming his mouth with the same brutality I’ve claimed everything else. He tastes of salt, sweat, and something else... a shocking, reluctant sweetness. His breath, hot and ragged, mixes with mine. “You came to save a loser,” I breathe, the words a hot, shared secret between our panting mouths. “And now you’re just my little prize. Hard and ready in front of everyone. In front of him.” I glance over at Dallas, making sure he’s seeing every second of his lover’s humiliation, every twitch of his body under my control. The dragon sleeper isn’t just a hold now. It’s an embrace. A cage of his own making. And his body is singing a traitor’s tune.
Adrian Romano
I can't keep pushing away how hot I found Dadicus from the moment I laid eyes on him moving around the ring like a wolf, hunting Dallas down. His voice. His body and the raw power he can just dish out. It's all rushing forward when he pushes down and opens my jeans, pushes into my undies and takes my thick eight inch cock in his hand, no one can see my face turn red in his pit, but now he knows I leaked a little in my undies when he tortured that nipple, and now he's showing the entire thing off...to Dallas...to the crowd. And all I can do is admit it now. Those slow rubs torture me in a different way, the tongue on my nub too. Dadicus hears me softly moan and I feel naked, exposed, not just physically, but I can't hide how alluring he is to me. He spins me enough so we can see each other and I can't hide the lust in my eyes. It means that I'm kissing him back almost immediately, for him to feel, for Dallas to see, it doesn't look like a one-sided thing at all. The position still humiliating, but I'm starting to learn about this man who demolished me fast through the kiss, realizing I'm hungry to learn. Starting to embrace that all in front of my restrained lover.
Dadicus
The moan you let out against my mouth isn’t just air... it’s a confession. It vibrates through my lips, a soft, surrendered sound that tells me everything. Your body tenses not to pull away, but to press closer. Your tongue doesn’t just accept mine; it fights back, hungry and eager. A low, dark chuckle escapes me, vibrating through the kiss. I break it just enough to let the words seep into your mouth, our breath mixing. “You’re a horny little fucker, aren’t you?” I gasp against your lips, the statement both a question and an accusation. My eyes lock with yours, holding your lust-filled gaze captive. I see it all... the shame, the surrender, the raw, undeniable hunger.
Dadicus
Still holding your stare, I pull back an inch. I gather a thick wad of saliva on my tongue and let it fall from my lips directly into your open, waiting mouth. Before you can react, I push two fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, claiming the wet heat inside. “You like that, don’t you?” My voice is a gravelly whisper. It’s not a question you need to answer with words. The helpless, pleading look in your eyes, the way your throat works around my fingers, says it all.
Dadicus
I withdraw my fingers, slick with spit, and drag them slowly down your chin. Then I kiss you again, deep and possessively, my tongue licking into the taste of my own dominance mixed with your submission. This isn't just a restraint anymore; it's an embrace you're melting into. And across the ring, Dallas watches, seeing not a rescue, but a replacement.
Dallas Jordan
My world flashes before my eyes when you easily take down Adrian. I sit in the corner watching you knee my sexy boyfriend in the face over and over until he’s barely conscious. I try to pull myself up using the ropes before your boot crashes down on my chest. BAM BAM BAM BAM! Loud thuds echo through the room and my breath escapes me. When you finally decide you’re done, I lay there, arms over the bottom rope, head propped up to look into the center of the ring.
Dallas Jordan
I’m forced to watch you work him over, teasing him with his face buried deep in your pit. Then it happens. Your hand finds his nipple, his trigger point, the one part of his body I’ve used to get him to submit to me so many times. I can see the bulge in Adrian’s pants grow with each twist and squeeze of the nips. The kiss is too much for me to watch. I start to pull myself up again trying to get to my feet, trying to save my boyfriend from your grip.
Adrian Romano
Dadicus is so quickly turning me on in ways that took Dallas much more time to explore, watching this older fighter get my cock hard and stay hard -- and forcefully so, playing on the emerging interest I have for this kind of audience fight. Of course I wanted it to not be so fucked up for me, but here I am, kissing Dadicus hard. He pulls back and my brown eyes look bigger than before, he's drawing out a Good Boy look in my eyes on my face, but it's mixed with some embarrassment "You've got a certain way, man." in my understated way it's huge praise from a guy who was just trying to attack you. Those words carry with them acknowledging your dominance verbally, even if indirectly. We lock eyes and I feel my cock throbbing just from that. From you looking at me this hungrily . I'm gasping in breaths and Dadicus uses that to drop his spit into my mouth. Surprise. More surprise when you push fingers into my mouth, rocking my head back. In my eyes maybe you can see that I thought about sucking those fingers, but then I remembered Dallas, and you pull out and look at the conflict still on my face. Then I feel that kiss again, it's pushing Dallas out of my mind, my tongue messing with yours with hunger for you: your body, these hands, your dominance. Dallas can see the small throbs in my thick cock from where he is. I can't stop them.
Dadicus
I can taste your curiosity, that dark thrill of being dominated by someone stronger. Your words "You've got a certain way, man" are a white flag dipped in honey. Your cock throbbing against me is your body signing the surrender treaty your mouth just offered. But my eyes are never just on my prize. They’re on the whole ring. On my domain. I see the movement in the corner of my vision. Dallas, that broken, stubborn ghost, is trying to rise. Again. A flicker of that pathetic champion’s spirit still burning in his ruined body. He’s pulling himself up the ropes, his eyes fixed on us... on me kissing his man, on Adrian kissing me back. A cold smile touches my lips even as my tongue wars with Adrian’s.
Dadicus
In a split second, I break the kiss. I shove Adrian back just enough to create space, my movement a blur of trained violence. I don’t step back; I launch. Using the ropes for momentum, I propel myself across the ring. Dallas is focus on Adrian, his body unsteady. Perfect. I drop down, driving the crown of my skull like a piston into his already battered groin. CRUNCH!! The sound is sickeningly familiar. A wet, meaty impact followed by a sound from Dallas that isn’t even a scream... it’s a high, airless shriek that dies into a silent, open-mouthed gag. He folds around the point of impact, his eyes rolling back, his body collapsing like a sack of bricks.
Dadicus
I stand up over him, a predator standing over fresh kill. But I don’t get to savor it. Movement behind me. Adrian, confused, maybe even concerned for his lover, takes a step toward the wreck that is Dallas. Wrong move. I pivot, my instincts faster than thought. As Adrian lurches forward, I shoot my legs out, hooking them around his ankles. I don’t just trip him; I guide him. With a sharp pull and a push to his back, I send him stumbling, falling... not to the mat, but directly onto Dallas. Adrian’s head, descends like a falling rock. It connects squarely, brutally, with Dallas’s already devastated groin. THUD!!!
Dadicus
It’s a second, horrifying impact. Dallas’s body, which had been utterly still, now jackknifes off the canvas in a violent, spasmodic arch. A strangled, wet groan is torn from him as fresh, unimaginable agony explodes from the point of impact. He jerks up and down, his legs kicking feebly, a fish out of water being crushed by a second wave. I stand over them both, my chest heaving. Adrian is splayed across Dallas, dazed and confused. Dallas is lost in a world of pure, shattering pain, his body convulsing from the double assault on his most vulnerable spot. I look from one broken man to the other, then back to the crowd, spreading my arms. “Look at your heroe!” I roar, my voice raw with exertion and triumph. “One’s my little slut, the other’s my punching bag! This is what happens when you step in the ring against me” I step closer, planting a boot on Adrian’s back, pressing him down onto Dallas’s writhing form, uniting their suffering in one brutal spectacle.
Dallas Jordan
Still groggy and incoherent when I I grab the ropes. Your body moves so quickly, my eyes can’t keep up. You move like a blur, running at me. My hands move to my chest to protect my bruised pecs that your boot has already demolished. Your body swings up in the air like an acrobat, graceful and powerful at the same time. Then my dreams are shattered from your head flying directly into my cock and balls. The impact is so intense it feels like my cock was just broken in half and my balls We’re flattened. “EEEEEEHHHHHKKKKKK” I cry out as I collapse back to the ground, leaning against the turnbuckle, my cock and balls in so much pain that I refuse to grasp at them. A blurry outline of Adrian comes towards me to keep this man from destroying me further. Then another hard skull fires into my balls “AAHHH OHHHH FUCK FUCK FUCK” my body thrashes around, bucking in the corner with my cock and balls throbbing in pain. My body is so break and used and now with my man making out with my opponent, my mind and manhood is breaking with it.
Adrian Romano
My head tilted down to inflict max damage on Dallas' package with my forehead, compared to the knee it's a softer impact and my face is held in there by the boot, turning red, I grab at Dallas' legs and dig in, as my frustration builds I claw in, frustrated that I'm being put on display and ended up having to surrender to Dadicus all because Dallas asked for help and had to get utterly trashed in this ring. I feel for him at the same time there's a rising sense that he caused me to get abused in front of these guys. Using a harsh grip on Dallas, I abruptly twist my body to the side and escape the boot, ending up face-up on the canvas , gasping in my white briefs, my face marked with a mix of Dadicus' winner scent and Dallas' abused bulge.
Dadicus
The sound you make isn't human. It's a high shriek of pure agony, the kind of noise that chills the blood. Your body isn't fighting anymore; it's just reacting, thrashing against the turnbuckle like a dying animal, every spasm a protest from your shattered groin. You're not a champion. You're not even a man right now. And your boyfriend, your sweet, concerned Adrian, is just another tool for me to use. I feel him pushing my boot away... I let him as he crumbles to the side... slowly wiping his face... I reach down and grab a handful of his pretty, sweat-damp hair, yanking his face up. His eyes are glazed, confused, a mix of dazed concern for you and the lingering shock of what just passed between us. "I wonder," I sneer, my voice dripping with contempt, "what were you going to do, huh? Save him?" I let out a soft chuckle. "You can't even save yourself from getting hard for me."
Dadicus
My free hand comes up, not to strike, but to suffocate. I press my palm over his mouth and nose, my fingers sealing his nostrils. His eyes widen in panic as his airway is cut off. He struggles weakly, his hands coming up to claw at my wrist, but there's barely any strength left in him. While he bucks and gurgles against my hand, my other hand snakes down the back of his white trunks. I squeeze and knead the firm, smooth flesh of his ass, feeling him tense, then involuntarily arch into the touch. He's so tight, so perfectly toned. A trophy. I pull my hand out, bring my fingers to my mouth, and suck on them slowly, my eyes locked on Dallas aching body. "Oh, yeah," I groan, the sound purely for your benefit, Dallas. "Let me get your little white knight ready for his big horse."
Dadicus
My wet fingers return to the ridgges of his ass. I don't ask. I probe. I press against his tight, clenched hole, feeling the incredible resistance. He lets out a muffled moan against my palm, his body bowing in protest. "He's a tight one..." I grunt, applying more pressure, working my fingers in a cruel, circular motion. I can feel him trembling, his body caught between the primal need to breathe and the violation happening behind him. With a brutal, sudden push, I hook my finger inside, forcing the tight ring of muscle to yield. I curl my finger, opening him up, stretching him in a way he's clearly never experienced.
Dadicus
I lean down, my lips against Adrian's ear, my hand still stifling his cries. "You feel that? That's me, pretty boy. That's me making room. Because I'm not done withyou," I jerk my head toward your twitching, broken form in the corner, "and I'm sure as hell not done with you." I give my buried finger a cruel twist, making Adrian's whole body convulse, a silent scream shaking his frame. "You wanted to play in the big leagues? Now you get to see how the game is really played." as I let you suck some air .
Dallas Jordan
My balls are swollen and throbbing, my cock rock hard and leaking as I continue to shriek and scream in the corner. My groans turn to sobs as unbearable pain tears through my body from my balls. I scoot to the side, leaning against the bottom rope. I helplessly watch turn my man into your toy. He’s suffocating at your hands all because I couldn’t handle my own in the ring. As if that wasn’t enough, your fingers dig into him, into My man’s hole that belongs to me and only me. My mind is telling me to get up by my body lays there motionless.
Adrian Romano
Then my air is choked off , hands over my nose and mouth, drawing a squirm. All I can feel is that finger pushing inside me, the stretch, the invasion, the way my body clenched around him like it was hungry for more. I should be horrified. I should be fighting, clawing, screaming. Instead, I'm leaning into his touch, my hips shifting, searching for more pressure despite my tightness. Dallas can see how big my brown eyes are. Realizing I am a prize here. Realizing Dadicus earned it even as a shudder racks me when he twists that finger. Dadicus leans in and calls me pretty boy all while my face is getting red. And finally, air rushes back into my lungs in a ragged, desperate gasp, but I barely register it.
Dadicus
The sight is almost poetic. You, Dallas, broken and sobbing against the ropes, a swollen, leaking monument to your own defeat. And Adrian, your beautiful boy, suffocating and squirming on my finger, his body betraying him with every helpless shift of his hips. My own cock is iron-hard, throbbing against my thigh. It’s not just from the fight. It’s from Adrian’s muffled moans vibrating against my palm, from the way his tight heat clenches around my invading finger, from the absolute, devastating helplessness in your eyes as you watch.
Dadicus
I pull my hand from his face, letting air rush back into his lungs in ragged, desperate gasps. His eyes are wide, glazed, his face flushed a perfect, pretty red. He sags against me, his back to my chest, breathing heavily. “Shhh, pretty boy,” I purr, withdrawing my finger from his ass with a wet sound that makes him shudder. I bring my other hand to my mouth, gathering a thick line of spit. I let it drool from my lips onto the head of my own cock, glistening in the harsh light. “Let’s make this official.” I grab my cock, guiding it. Into Adrian’s ass cheeks, his back still to me. I press the broad mushroom head of my cock against that tight, stretched hole. He gasps, his body going rigid for a second. Then I push. My head presses against his resistance, then slowly... begins to sink in, splitting him open. His body arches, but I hold him firm.
Dadicus
At the same time, I wrap my arms around him from behind, locking his own arms behind his head in a brutal, inescapable lifted full nelson. He’s completely trapped, bent backwards, impaled on my cock, his arms useless above his head. I stand, lifting his weight easily, my cock buried to the hilt inside him. A guttural groan escapes him, his head falling back against my shoulder. His body is stretched taut, a perfect bow of submission.
Dadicus
I don’t stay still. I walk us forward, each step jostling him on my shaft, until we’re directly in front of you, Dallas. I want you to see this. I want you to see every detail. Then, I begin to move. I bounce him. Not fast, but deep. Each downward motion sheathes me completely inside him, making his eyes roll back and a continuous, broken moan spill from his lips.
Dadicus
“Mgh! Look at him,” I grunt, my own breath coming harder now. I bounce Adrian again, and again. “Look how he enjoys my massive cock. Look how hard his cock is.” I nod toward Adrian’s own erection, bobbing pathetically with each thrust. “I’m a nice guy. Let’s see who does it better.” With that, I lift my boot and bring it down, with steady, threatening pressure, right on your own battered, throbbing package. A fresh wave of agony awaiting you. “Here’s the game,” I snarl, my voice tight with effort as I continue to pump into Adrian. “For every moan he makes, for every little gasp and cry, I put more pressure on your pretty, broken cock. And for every time you gag or sob, I push down harder. Let’s see how much you love hearing your boyfriend love my dick.” I decrease the pace slightly "now suck his cock and let the game begin" I chuckle
Adrian Romano
Dadicus this vicious but sexy heel is...inside me. inside me. The full nelson locks my arms useless above my head, my back arched against his chest, and all I can do is feel. Feel every inch of that thick, brutal cock as it splits me open, stretching me in ways I didn’t know I could stretch. The burn is exquisite, a sharp, agonizing pressure that melts into something deeper, something that makes my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open allowing gasps and groans to fall out of my mouth.
Adrian Romano
Feeling lifted, weightless, impaled, my feet dangling above the canvas. Every bounce sends him deeper, grinding against that spot inside me that makes my thighs tremble and my cock ache. I’m rock hard, starting to leak, , a sticky trail of precum beading at the tip with each jarring impact. I can hear myself moaning...an almost shameful sound that I can’t stop, that I don’t want to stop. It’s pleasure and pain tangled together in a knot, pain only making pleasure sharper.
Adrian Romano
He walks us forward, and I see Dallas. Broken, swollen, defeated, done. And Dadicus’s boot hovers over his abused package, a promise of more torment. I should be horrified. But all I can focus on is the way my body clenches around Dadicus’s cock, the way my hole is being reshaped, claimed. I feel a fresh wave of precum leak from me, dripping down, landing on Dallas’s cheek, his mouth.
Adrian Romano
He bounces me harder, and I feel every inch, every ridge, the heavy weight of his balls slapping , My head falls back against his shoulder, my throat bared, a low, guttural groan rumbling from my chest. “Oh fuck,” Looking hot as hell for the audience, but in that unmistakable taken and used kind of way the image of me getting railed now permanently burned into their minds.
Dallas Jordan
I lay in the corner, head titles to the side and looking up. Pain radiates through my whole body with the slightest movement activating it. I watch as you grab your thick cock, the one that has me screaming and crying out in front of all these men, and line it up to my man’s hole. “nooo…leave…him” I moan or but it’s no use. Your cock slides inside him. I wait for the screams from Adrian but they don’t come. Not in the way I expected. I wait for him to fight you off, to thrash around, to show you that he’s not yours for the taking. But that doesn’t happen either. Instead, the sound of his moan makes my heart skip a beat. My mans lifted in the air on your cock like a trophy mounted on a wall, right in front of me, forced to watch you take him. As you step forward, I watch his cock bounce and he moans with each step. Pre drips onto my face from his cock, hitting my lips. My tongue swirls around them tasting the sweet taste that I’ve had many times. Then I see your big boot lifted, hovering over my cock and balls. “Uuuuhhhggg” I groan in protest but I’m too broken to move.
Dallas Jordan
Your boot pushes down, my semi hard cock and swollen balls are crushed beneath the rigid hard boot. My jaw opens, eyes widen before I screech “AAAAHHHHKKKKKK” my mouth open right in front of Adrian’s cock. He continues to moan and whimper in your arms and the boot presses down harder, his cock gets closer before it’s pledged in my mouth. My man’s big cock hits the back of my throat making me gag. He moans from the sensation of getting sucked and fucked at the same time. That moan turns to my demise as your boot continues to press harder. I scream around his cock, sounds mostly muffled. Tears roll down my cheeks while I look up to see Adrian with his head thrown back moaning and you looking down at me with an evil grin across your face.
Dadicus
Your broken whimpers, the wet, rhythmic slap of skin as I pound into Adrian’s tight heat, and the choked, gagging noises coming from around Adrian’s cock buried in your mouth. I watch, my grin a cruel slash across my face, as your tongue flicks out and wraps around the base of Adrian’s shaft. Your lips, swollen and split... open to take more of him in, sliding over his leaking head. You’re doing it... like my little pet... You’re sucking his cock while I destroy him. And he feels it. A low, shuddering moan vibrates through Adrian’s body and into mine. His head lolls back against my shoulder, his eyes closed in a mix of pain and bliss. “That’s it,” I snarl, my voice thick with dominance. My boot, which has been a constant, threatening pressure on your ruined groin, presses down slowly, incrementally. You let out a muffled whimper around the cock in your mouth.
Dadicus
“It’s okay, Dallas,” the mockery dripping from every word as I bounce Adrian harder, driving him down onto my length. “You can whimper. That’s not part of the game. But if you…” I shove Adrian’s hips forward, forcing his cock deeper into your throat hitting the back. You gag violently, your whole body convulsing. “...gag…” I press down with my boot, a sharp, grinding pressure on your swollen balls. “…I press harder.” It becomes a brutal rhythm. My hips piston into Adrian’s ass. Each of his moans, each sharp gasp of pleasure, is met with a corresponding increase of pressure from my boot on your tender flesh. Each gag, each choked cough from you, earns another vicious grind. In... Moan... I Press... Gag... I Grind... Faster. Louder. Harder.
Dadicus
You’re trapped in a cycle of your own making. Adrian’ pleasure is your torture. His ecstasy is your agony. The more he loses himself in the feeling of being taken, the more you pay for it. I see the moment it becomes too much. Your eyes, wide and tear-filled, glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. You can’t even maintain the suction anymore. You’re just a broken receptacle, taking his cock because you have no other choice, while my boot threatens to crush what’s left of you. “Say it!” I roar, my own climax building, my thrusts becoming frantic, animalistic. “Say you are my fucking loser!” I see Adrian’s mouth open, maybe to plead... maybe to moan my name... maybe to otter the words. I don’t give him the chance. My hand, slick with sweat, flies from his hip and clamps over his mouth. “Who said you get to talk, my trampy knight?” I snap, and with my other hand, I deliver a sharp, stinging slap across his beautiful, flushed cheek. The sound cracks through the room. “You understand, right? This isn’t about you.”
Dadicus
I slap him again, the impact jerking his head to the side. “Now say it!” I command Dallas, my voice guttural and final. “My strong champion.” The title is the ultimate mockery as I pick up the speed bouncing Adrien on my cock over and over. With my boot still firmly planted on your groin, controlling your very breath, I use my grip on Adrian’s hips to slap his cock against your battered face... a final, degrading insult. The rhythm is gone, replaced by a frantic, driving need to finish, to claim, to utterly break both of them in front of everyone. “SAY IT!”
Adrian Romano
Dadicus' hand clamps over my mouth and the slap hits my cheek like a firecracker. My head snaps to the side, cheek stinging, ear ringing. But the pain barely registers. What registers is the way my hole clenches around him when he hits me. What registers is the shameful, electric jolt that travels straight to my cock, making it twitch and leak another string of precum onto Dallas's face below.
Adrian Romano
can't speak. can't protest. All I can do is feel. Feel him buried inside me to the hilt. Feel the way he bounces me on his cock like I weigh nothing, like I'm just a toy for his entertainment. My eyes roll back, my throat working in silent moans that get trapped behind his palm. I'm nothing but a vessel for his pleasure and a tool for Dallas's torture.
Adrian Romano
Through the haze, I watch my own cock slap against Dallas's battered face with each bounce. Watch his tear-streaked cheeks, his glazed eyes, his slack jaw. The man who once dominated me in this ring, who made me feel like I was his bitch, is now on his knees, broken and drooling, taking my cock in his mouth while I get railed above him. And I'm hard. I'm so fucking hard it hurts, my groans muffled by Dadicus's hand.
Dallas Jordan
Your foot hovers over my balls before crushing me harder. Your cock slams into my man, drilling him deep. His hips thrust forward sending his cock deeper down my throat “GUUUUHHHGGGG”. I gag on his hard cock and I’m quickly punished from both ends. My throat grind wrecked by my own bottom boy, my cock and balls trampled by your big boot. I cry and whimper in Adrian’s cock, now sobbing from the pain and humiliation. Every thrust into him shatters my mind and my manhood. Not just my balls, but my semi hard cock is crushed beneath your boot like a bug that was just a nuisance.
Dallas Jordan
Adrian’s cock pulls out of my mouth, swaying over my face as you pound his ass. His slime coated cock slaps against me, smearing my own spit on my face. It slaps at me furiously in rhythm with your pounding. My balls feel like they are about to bust under your boot. The cock slapping my face leaks pre on my face mixing with the throat slime “I’m…your…loser” I groan through the side of my mouth.
Dadicus
The words crawl out of your ruined throat like a confession dragged from the deepest part of your broken soul: “I’m…your…loser.” It hits me like a lightning bolt. Not because it’s surrender... I already own. But because it’s you saying it. The champ!. The king of this underground kingdom. The man who promised to make me his Latin bitch. And now you’re on the corner, drooling, crushed under my boot, admitting what you really are.
Dadicus
My rhythm inside Adrian falters for just a second. Then it comes back with twice the intensity... harder, rougher, and meaner. My mushroom head pounds against that tender prostate with every savage thrust, edging me closer to the brink. Adrian is a moaning, leaking mess in my arms, his body bouncing helplessly, his own cock slapping wetly against your face. But my focus has shifted. You called to me... I release Adrian’s mouth, letting him gasp and whimper... Then I pull out... The sound is obscene... a wet, sucking release. A thick strand of my pre-cum stretches from my glistening head to his gaping, abused hole before snapping, painting his inner thigh. He sags, boneless, barely conscious. My hands grab his legs, hooking them over my arms. I lift them high, folding his body nearly in half, his knees meeting his ears. He’s completely exposed, utterly helpless.
Dadicus
I lean down, my lips brushing his ear, my voice but a whisper. “You… I will get to enjoy later.” Then I toss him. I grip his folded legs and roll backward, using his own momentum, slamming him down in a package suplex. His head and shoulders crash into the canvas with a sickening thud, his body bouncing once before going still.
Dadicus
I rise to my feet, my chest heaving, my cock standing thick and proud, slick with his heat. I don’t spare him another glance. My eyes are on you. You’re crumbled in the corner, a broken masterpiece of bruises and sweat. Your semi-hard cock and swollen balls are a purple-red. Your face is a mess of spit, pre-cum, and your own tears. You look up at me with glassy, defeated eyes. I walk toward you slowly, savoring every inch of ground. My white boots echo in the sudden, tense silence of the room. I stop in front of you, looking down at what I’ve made.
Dadicus
I kneel. My hands find your ankles, lifting your legs, spreading them. Your ruined hole, still loose and wet from my earlier assault, is exposed to the lights, to the crowd, to me. I position myself, my hard cock teasing your entrance. I don’t push in. Not yet. I drag the slick head up and down your crack, letting you feel its weight, its heat, its promise. “Say it again,” I command, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “Look me in the eyes and say it again.” I press just the tip against your stretched hole, a whisper of penetration, making you gasp. “And this time, show me that you really mean it.”
Adrian Romano
Dadicus pulls out slowly, deliberately, letting me feel every ridge, every inch as it leaves my body. The wet, sucking sound echoes, and I'm left empty, gaping, my hole clenching around nothing. I sag in his grip, boneless, my mind a fog. My legs are hooked over his arms, my body folded nearly in half, knees brushing my ears. Completely exposed. Completely vulnerable. Then he suplexes me. The lights blur into streaks of white and gold. My head and shoulders crash into the canvas with a sickening thud that rattles my teeth and sends a shockwave through my spine. I bounce once, twice, before going still, spread-eagled on the mat. I lie there, gasping, staring at the ceiling lights. My ass throbs. My cheek stings. My ears ring.
Dallas Jordan
Laying there in the corner, I watch you pull your cock out of my man’s ass. The pop of the sound rings through my ears. I watch you fold him in half right in front of me, showing off his used body before throwing him back. My arms are draped to the side, head tilted against the turnbuckle as you walk towards me. My face is a mess of pre, spit and tears. My cock Is so battered same balls bruised and swollen. I look into your eyes as you kneel in front of me, still whimpering in pain.
Dallas Jordan
My legs are lifted up, ankles spread wide, ass on display. Your powerful cock slides up and down my crack, threatening my hole. The thickness and heat makes my body shudder “UUUNNNGGGG” I groan as your head pushes inside. I look into your eyes knowing the crowd has turned on me and my man was just whimpering and moaning on your cock. “I’m your fucking loser Dadicus” The crowd erupts in cheers hearing me surrender.
Dadicus
"I'm your fucking loser, Dadicus." The crowd erupts, but I barely hear them. All I hear is you. All I see is you. Your broken eyes, your sweaty-streaked face, your swollen lips forming the words that seal your fate. And that's all it takes. I don't slam into you. I don't punish. This time, I fill you. Slowly. Deliberately. Inch by inch, I push my thick, throbbing cock into your ruined hole. I watch your face the entire time... the way your jaw goes slack, the way your eyes widen, the way your body trembles as I sink deeper. Your hole wraps around me, clenching, welcoming, remembering. My pubes press against your skin, my balls slapping softly against your bruised flesh as I seat myself completely inside you.
Dadicus
I stop there for a moment, buried to the hilt. Letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of my cock inside you. I bite my lower lip, my eyes locked on yours, and I start to move. Slow at first. A gentle rock. Settling into a deep, grinding rhythm that has nothing to do with violence and everything to do with claiming. My hands find your hips, gripping you, holding you open for me. Each thrust is slow and deliberate, measured to make sure you feel every single inch of me.
Dadicus
The audience fades. The noise, the lights... everything around us simply dissolves. In this moment, it's just you and me. The hunter and the conquered. The predator and the prey who's finally learning to stop running. I lean down, my voice a hot, ragged whisper between slow, deep thrusts. "You feel that, champ?" I breathe. "You've been fighting this all night, but your body knows the truth. It's been begging for this. For my cock!."
Dallas Jordan
Your cock pushes into my ass, my ass that has already been opened up by your thick dominating cock. My head falls back, mouth opens, looking up at you as you claim my hole once again. Your cock pushes into me slowly, inch by inch, it feels like an eternity before I finally i feel your balls push against mine. This time I don’t scream, I don’t groan, I just whimper. I quite innocent whimper. My hole opens back up around your thick cock, the same cock that has my man moaning for more. Your hips pull back and I can feel every ridge and vein in your cock slide along my hole. “Nnnnmm…ohhhhh” chills run through my body and I release a moan that only you can hear. My own aching swollen red cock grows as you push in and out of me. This time it’s not to break my body, it’s to break my mind.
Dadicus
That whimper... soft, almost innocent... cuts through everything. The sound of a champion finally, truly surrendering. And it makes me harder than any fight ever could. I feel your body open around me again, that tight, ruined heat welcoming me back like it was made for me. Every ridge, every vein of my cock is felt by both of us as I pull back, then push in. Your quiet moan, meant only for me, sends a shiver down my spine. Your battered, swollen cock stirs against your belly, growing despite everything. Your body knows what your mind is still learning.
Dadicus
I start to move faster... searching... our sweaty bodies slapping together in a wet, primal rhythm. I angle myself, adjusting, hunting for that spot I found earlier. The one that made your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. There. I hit it, and your whole body jolts. A sharp gasp tears from your lips, your hands flying to grip my arms. I grin against your skin, my breath ragged, and I hammer that spot again and again, each thrust driving a broken moan from deep in your chest.
Dadicus
"Nnh... fuck..." The words escape me between grunts, my control fraying. "Nngh... MGH!" I'm close. So close. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, a white-hot inferno threatening to consume me. But I don't want to finish yet. I want you to feel this. I want you to remember this. I slow just enough to lean down, my forehead pressing against yours, our breath mingling in the humid space between us. My eyes lock onto yours, as I kiss your mouth... my tongue invading once again as my hot breath hits your lips. I drive deep, making you gasp... as I pick up the pace again, faster, harder, my balls slapping against your bruised flesh. I'm chasing my release, but I'm chasing yours too. I want to feel you come undone beneath me, to feel you shatter on my cock.
Dallas Jordan
Your cock continues to slide in and out of my hole, grinding against the sides, stretching me around your fat cock. Each thrust in sends shivers through my veins. I manage to keep my moans, just between us. Until you find it, you find the spot that every man tries to locate. You find it easily, like you’ve done this many times. My lips quiver, my eyes widen, I stare into your eyes “UHHHHHH DADICUS!” There it goes. The moan that echoes through the gym, that signals my ultimate defeat, that tells the crowd that I am now yours. Your head presses against mine, breathing heavily against one another when your lips attack my, your tongue enters my mouth. I moan louder into your mouth, grabbing at your shoulders and biceps. My cock spits up pre onto my torso. My swollen nuts are building up a load, a painful throbbing load. No I know why Adrian was moaning so loudly, now Dadicus has me in is grasp destroying my mind.
Dadicus
The sound of my name torn from your lips "UHHHHHH DADICUS!" echoes through the gym. It's the sound of your ultimate defeat, the signal to every horny man in this basement that the champ is no longer theirs. He's mine. I hear it, and something primal snaps inside me. My hands find your hips, gripping the sweat-slicked skin, and I lift you. I angle you just right, and I start to slam into that sacred spot with everything I have. My head pounds against it over and over, relentless, unmerciful. Your ass grips my cock like it never wants to let go, clenching and pulling me deeper with every stroke. "That's it, boy... ughh... mghhh... UGHH!!... come on... MGHH!!... F-Fuck..."
Dadicus
My words are broken, ragged, torn from a place beyond thought. A white-hot inferno that's been building all night. I feel your body trembling beneath me, your own swollen cock leaking against your stomach, your moans driving me closer and closer to the edge. And then I'm there. I bury myself to the hilt and I burst. My cock pulses deep inside you, hot, thick ribbons of cum flooding your insides, painting your walls with everything I have. A guttural, animalistic groan tears from my throat as I breed you, wave after wave of cum that seems to go on forever. But I don't stop.
Dadicus
I keep thrusting, keep pumping, riding out my climax and yours. I want you to feel every last drop. I want you to feel how completely I've claimed you. My rhythm slows but doesn't cease, each lazy, deep stroke pushing more of my seed deeper into you, making sure it takes root. I lean down, my forehead pressing against yours. My eyes lock onto yours, and I see it the terrifying realization that this is exactly where you were always meant to be. "That's it," I whisper, my voice hoarse and raw. "That's my champion. My beautiful, broken king. You feel that? That's me. All of me. Inside you." I give one last, deep thrust, seating myself completely, and hold there, letting you feel the weight of what just happened. The warmth of my cum inside you. The finality of it. "Now say it again," I breathe, my lips brushing yours. "Say you are my little looser... say you're mine and that you belong to me ."
Dallas Jordan
My hips are yanked forward after I moan out your name. The crowd roars hearing me call out your name as your cock tears into my asshole. My ass lifts upwards towards your sweat covered body and your cock drills into my prostate. You’re pounding me hard and deep, punching my sweet spot over and over. My hands reach up and grasp the ropes “UUUHHHH OHHHH FUCK FUCK ME!” I scream uncontrollably. My moans only make you fuck me harder and more aggressively. Then I feel it…your cock expands inside me stretching me out before I’m quickly filled with your thick hot cum running through my ass.
Dallas Jordan
It continues to pulse inside me, my head rolls around, eyes glazed over. The men all get to their feet chanting your name knowing you just bred their former champion. Your cock dives deep into me making my own Dick leak on my abs. Your sweat covered forehead pressed against mine feeling the warmth of your breath hit my face, demanding another submission. “I’m your loser. I belong to you” I whisper so only you can hear.
Dadicus
The words slip from your lips "I'm your loser. I belong to you."... soft, broken, meant only for my ears. And I hear them. The crowd is on their feet, chanting my name, but in this moment, there is only you and me. I hold still inside you for a long, delicious moment, letting the weight of your surrender settle. Then, slowly, I pull out. The sound is wet, obscene... your hole clenching around nothing, my cum leaking out of you, painting your thighs.
Dadicus
You're a beautiful, ruined mess. I grab your head, not roughly, but with ownership, and guide you down onto the canvas. You're limp, compliant, utterly spent. I position myself, settling my ass onto your face, my thighs framing your head. The ref, stunned but professional, drops to the mat beside us. ONE. The crowd cheering. TWO. I look down at your sweaty body. I feel your breath, warm and ragged, against me. THREE. The ref's hand slaps the mat. The gym erupts... cheers, jeers, a cacophony of chaos. I push myself up and look down at your broken, beautiful body one last time. I tap your cheek lightly, almost affectionately. "Good boy," I murmur, my voice low and satisfied.
Dadicus
Then I turn. Adrian is still on the floor, stirring, his eyes tracking me. I walk toward him, I stop in front of him, looking down at his sweat-slicked body, his cock still half-hard, his hole still loose and gaping from earlier. "And you," I say, my voice carrying through the room, a command and an invitation wrapped in one. "If you want to finish what we started..." I let the words hang, my eyes locking onto his. "...follow me." I don't wait for an answer. I turn and walk toward the ropes, toward the stairs, toward the door at the back of the gym. The night isn't over. Not by a long shot. And I have a feeling both of them will be right behind me.
Dallas Jordan
I feel so broken and used, the hardest fall from the top that I could have ever imagined. I listen to your name chanted, echoing through the basement. Your cock pulls out dragging your cum along the side of my ass before your head finally pops out. My hole is left gaping and puckering, your winners load leaks out onto the canvas. My body is pulled out of the ring, I crawl on my hands and knees to the center of the ring until you flip me on my back. Your ass Is lowered, your hole smothers my face. The same hole that just a couple hours ago I thought would be riding my cock Is instead riding my face. I breathe in your sweaty ass as I hear the ref counting but I’m frozen stiff beneath you until the count of three.
Dallas Jordan
I let there, beaten and ruined, my cock hard and pointed straight up into the air. I turn my head and watch Dadicus walk towards the ropes, your thick ass bouncing with each step, cock and balls swinging beneath you. I look over at Adrian curious and terrified of what he’s going to do.
Adrian Romano
I'm pushing up, my eyes tracking Dadicus and hearing his offer, my gaze drifting between Dadicus and Dallas. I get myself up to my feet after having this time to recoup, but still look messed up. I see how destroyed Dallas is and stare at him, eyes cold and calculating "What kind of man are you to ask for my help and allow this to happen? Guess what, you aren't a man at all, you're a used up bitch." it sounds final, there's a gasp from the crowd and I walk out to follow Dadicus on a new path.
Dadicus
Dallas's broken body seems to shrink further into the canvas. I see the words hit him like a physical blow... worse than any kick, worse than any humiliation I inflicted. The man who loved him, the man he tried to protect, has just declared him worthless. I see Adrian turn corner of my eyes and walk toward me. I watch him approach, my smirk hidden in the shadows of my face as I keep walking. I knew this was coming. I saw the hunger in his eyes when he was impaled on my cock, the way his body betrayed his mind, the way he kissed me back with a passion he couldn't fake. He was never coming to save Dallas. He was coming to be claimed a new master.
Dadicus
"Get up, champ," I call out, my voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. "And follow if you want to know what it feels like to belong to someone who actually sees you." I turn, Adrian at my side, and walk out the room. I don't look back. I don't need to. The night is over. But the story is just beginning. And I have a feeling Dallas Jordan... former champion, current broken mess... won't be able to resist following his new path...
~THE END~
Published: 7 days ago, viewed 115 times.
BraveAjay
4 days agoDallas will remember this fight for ages. I hope he had no plans to be a father, since it might be impossible anymore after all those lowblows Dadicus delivered. Delicious and brutal, yet so erotic match. Thank you for sharing your fight on The Shelter
Gregory Stein
6 days agoWell DAMN!!!! helluva read on my uber ride. 🔥🔥
Dadicus
5 days ago(In reply to this)
Ty!! glad you enjoyed it on your uber drive hehe !!!