Erotic sex fighters

Daddy_David 

The locker room air is thick with the scent of sweat and chlorine as I step in, already stripping down. Tank top hits the bench first, then the white trunks, clean ones laid out for the match in about twenty minutes. I’m naked underneath, skin still hot and pumped from the warm-up. Forty-five, 6'1", silver-streaked hair, thick gray beard, body carved hard: broad chest, veined arms, eight-pack glistening, that big round muscled ass flexing as I move. I grab a towel, knot it loose around my waist, just enough to cover the heavy hang of my thick 7-inch cock and low balls, and head straight for the showers. The towel drops with a wet slap on the tile as I step under the hot spray. Water pounds my traps, streams down my spine, over the deep curve of my glutes, dripping off everything. I soap up slow, hands sliding over soap-slick pecs, abs, then lower, lathering the shaft till it thickens, veins rising as it lifts toward my navel. I brace one forearm high on the tile wall, back arched, pushing that powerful ass out under the spray. Suds run down the crack, water rinsing me clean, leaving every inch exposed and gleaming. The match is coming, me against Dadicus, another handsome daddy built like a fucking wall. Twenty minutes till we lock up on the mat, sweat, grind, pin. I clench my glutes hard, once, twice, making them bounce under the hot water, cock now fully thick and heavy, throbbing against my abs as pre beads at the tip.

Dadicus

 Soap running down all that silver-streaked pride. Steam curling off your shoulders. Back arched, ass out under the spray, trying to look hard even when you’re alone. I can see the thickness between your legs, already jumping... Pathetic!. Getting excited just thinking about getting owned. A smirk spreads across my face. My voice comes out low, but it carries. “Clean well, David,” I shout making sure every fucker nearby hears it. They stop talking. “Get real clean... Specially that hole I'm going to have later” I let the chuckles from the boys wash over us. “I see you’re hard already,” I nod toward your thick cock, my stare locked on yours in the foggy shower. “You’re already hard. Good. You should be thinking about it!!... How I’m gonna own your ass. How I’m gonna pin you down in front of everyone and make you tap.” I snap my wristband tight, the sound crisp in the damp air.

Dadicus

“15 minutes,” I say, turning to lean back against the lockers, arms crossed over my broad chest. My eyes drag down your body, slow, like I’m already deciding which part of you to break first. “15 minutes till you’re just another checkmark on my list. Another tough guy made into my little bitch.” I push off the lockers, my shadow swallowing the bench. “Don’t rush. Enjoy the hot water. It wont be the last time you’ll feel warm tonight.” I smirk

 

Daddy_David 

The hot water still pounds behind me as your voice echoes off the tiles, that cocky drawl trying to fill the room. I let it wash over me for a second then I reach up, twist the knob hard. The spray cuts off with a metallic squeak. Steam swirls thick around my naked body as I step out from under the head, water streaming in rivulets down every carved inch: silver-streaked chest heaving slow, abs tight, that thick 7-inch cock still rock-hard and jutting forward, veins pulsing, pre glistening at the tip despite the sudden chill. I don’t bother with the towel. Let it lie crumpled on the floor. Broad shoulders squared, I stride straight out of the shower area, bare feet slapping wet on the tile, leaving dark footprints behind me. My big, round ass flexes with each heavy step, glutes rolling powerful under the skin, water dripping from the deep cleft and down the backs of my thick thighs. Balls swing low and heavy between my legs, cock bobbing with the motion, fully erect now, no hiding it, no shame in it. I stop just a few feet from you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off my soaked skin, smell the clean soap mixed with raw musk. Gray eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, beard dripping as I tilt my head slightly. My voice comes out low, gravel-rough, cutting through the sudden quiet like a blade. “Fifteen minutes, huh?” I step even closer, invading your space, chest almost brushing yours, that throbbing dick brushing dangerously near the yellow fabric stretched over your own bulge. “Plenty of time to shut that pretty mouth before I shut it for you.”

Daddy_David 

I reach down slow, deliberate one big hand wrapping around the base of my shaft, giving it a single, slow pump so you see every thick inch slide through my fist, head flaring, pre stringing out and dripping to the floor between us. “You wanna talk about owning holes?” My free hand comes up, thumb brushing rough over your jaw, then gripping your chin just firm enough to tilt your face up to mine. “Start with this one right here. ’Cause when that bell rings, I’m gonna pin you flat, grind this clean, hard daddy cock down your throat till you choke on it… then flip you over and bury it balls-deep in that tight ass you keep bragging about.” I flex my hips forward... just enough so the slick head of my dick drags a wet line across the front of your yellow trunks, marking the fabric. “Keep running your mouth, Dadicus. Makes it sweeter when I make you eat every word… and every inch.” I release your chin, step back half a pace, giving you the full view again: dripping, muscled, aroused, ready. “But go ahead. Stare. Touch yourself if you need to. Clock’s ticking, boy. In fifteen minutes, this” I slap my cock once, hard, making it bounce against my abs with a wet smack, "owns you!" I turn just enough to show you that big, powerful ass again as I head toward the bench where my white trunks wait, glutes clenching with promise, water still trailing down the crack.

Dadicus

 I let out a single, harsh laugh. “HA.” I look down at the wet mark on my trunks, then back at your retreating form, my voice loud and dripping with scorn. “Not even you believe that. will happen” I take a step toward you, my smirk cold. “That little show is the only thing you are good at... To pump yourself up!. In fifteen minutes, I’m gonna have you flat on your back, staring at the lights... asking me to stop” I nod toward your white trunks on the bench. “Better get dressed. The sooner you’re in that ring, the sooner I make you my bitch.”

Daddy_David 

 The locker room air is thick with the smell of sweat, cheap soap and ambition. I stop short at your harsh laugh, water still dripping from my beard and chest. I snatch the white trunks off the bench, step into them quick, thick thighs sliding through, fabric stretching tight over my heavy balls and the rigid 7-inch bulge, waistband snapping low on my hips with a sharp crack. I turn fast, closing the gap in two strides until I'm right in your face, broad chest heaving inches from yours, heat rolling off my wet skin, cock straining visibly against the thin white material. One big hand plants firm on your pec, shoving you back against the lockers with controlled force, pinning you there just enough to feel my weight. Gray eyes bore into yours, voice low and rough right up close. "What's so fucking funny Dadicus?" I lean in harder, beard brushing your jaw, free hand gripping the locker beside your head to cage you. "You laughing cause you know deep down this thick daddy dick's gonna split you open in fifteen minutes? Or you just scared to admit how bad you want it?" I flex my hips forward, letting the hard outline drag slow across your yellow trunks once, deliberate, marking you again. "Keep smirking boy. Makes it hotter when I wipe it off your face on the mat." I shove off you, stepping back, glutes flexing under the tight white fabric as I turn toward the door. "Ring's waiting. Don't make me come drag your ass there myself."

 Dadicus

 You shove me back against the lockers, your hand pressing on my chest, your heat and aggression pushing into my space. You lean in, your beard close to mine, your words a growled threat in my ear as your cock strains against your white trunks and pressing into mine. I just stare back into your gray eyes, my expression unamused and confident. I let you have your moment, let you think you’ve pinned me, dominated the space between us. You shove off and turn to walk away, giving me your back... a show of contempt, or maybe just stupid arrogance. That’s when I move. My voice is a low, dangerous snarl as you take your first step. “Who,” I say. My right fist slams into the meat of your back, right between your shoulder blades, with a sickening thud that echoes in the locker room. Your forward stride jolts to a stop. “Is dragging,” I growl, my left hand tangling in your wet, silver-streaked hair, yanking your head back. My right hand grabs a brutal handful of the white fabric stretched over your ass, digging into your glutes. “Who to the ring?!” I use my full weight and leverage, twisting and heaving. I slam you sideways into the bank of lockers.

 Dadicus

 The metal booms and dents under the impact. I keep your hair twisted in my fist, smashing the side of your head against the cold steel once, hard. I lean in, my mouth by your ear, my voice a vicious whisper now that ever other eye in the locker room is on us. “You thought I was just gonna let you rub your cock on me and walk away? That I’d just take that disrespect?” I shove my knee into the back of your thigh, putting pressure on the joint, keeping you pinned against the locker. “You made your point. Now I’m making mine. You don’t get to turn your back on me !!!... You don’t get to dismiss me !!!.”

Daddy_David 

 The world spins violently. That punch between my shoulder blades hits like a freight train. Breath explodes out in a choked gasp. Legs buckle. Forward momentum dies. Your hand knots in my wet silver hair and yanks hard. Neck snaps back with a crack. Vision blurs. Lockers streak gray. Pain explodes behind my eyes. Your other hand seizes my ass through soaked trunks. Fingers dig deep into muscle. Cock jerks traitorously thick against the fabric. You twist and heave. Slam me sideways into steel. Metal booms and dents. Ribs jar. Teeth click. Air punches out sharp. Then the follow-up smash. Side of my head against cold locker. Wet crack rings through my skull. World whites out. Black edges rush in. Sparks dance.

Daddy_David 

 Everything slows. Body sags heavy. Legs tremble and threaten to fold. Chest heaves in shallow ragged bursts. Your knee grinds into the back of my thigh. Joint screams. Low broken groan escapes. Hands scrabble weakly at slick metal. Slip. Fail. Head lolls. Silver hair plasters across my face. Blood trickles from temple. Warm sticky. Mixes with sweat. Drips. Eyes struggle to focus on you. Glassy pupils blown. Mouth hangs slack. Lips move. No sound at first. Just wet wheezing. “Fuck.” Slurred. Barely there. Arms go limp. One palm flat on locker. The other dangles useless. Cock still strains obscenely. But the rest of me folds. You lean in. Mouth by my ear. Whisper cuts through ringing haze. I flinch. Small involuntary. Head tips. Too heavy. Forehead brushes your shoulder. Another weak groan. Consciousness flickers. Close. Dangerously close. Knees give again. Only your grip holds me up. Hair twisted. Knee pinning. Body crowding. Chest presses yours with every shallow pant. White trunks drenched. Clinging transparent. Every twitch grinds me helpless against you. Eyes flutter. Half-lidded. Unfocused gray. Body slumps heavier. Dead weight into you. Forehead thumps softly on your collarbone. Arms drape loose over your shoulders. Too weak to hold. Breath hot uneven against your neck. Locker room silent except distant drip and my wet rasping breaths. Still conscious. Barely.

 Dadicus

 You slump against me, a dead weight of muscle and shock. Your breath comes in ragged, wet hitches against my neck. I can feel your heart hammering through your chest where my hand is still planted. I look down at the top of your head. Silver hair plastered with sweat and now a trickle of blood from your temple. For a second, I just hold you there, propped up by my knee and my grip on your hair. Letting everyone see it. Letting you feel it. Then, with a slow, deliberate move, I reach over to the bench next to us. My fingers close on a damp towel... don’t know whose, don’t care. I bring it up and wipe the blood from your forehead. The gesture is almost gentle, but the context makes it a violation. “Can’t have you going out like this,” I mutter, my voice low and flat. “Not before the bell. What my fans to see you all pretty... before I have you begging” I toss the towel aside. It lands with a wet slap on the tiles.

 Dadicus

 My other hand... moves and slides down your stomach, over the soaked white fabric of your trunks. My fingers find the outline of your cock, still thick and hard despite the beating... I keep going down finding your precious hanging jewels. I grip them through the material, not hard enough to injure, but hard enough to dominate, to claim. A brutal, possessive squeeze. At the same time, my other hand releases your hair and shoots up, slamming against your neck, my thumb digging into the pulse point under your jaw. I don’t choke you, not yet. I just press. A threat. I lean in, my lips almost touching your ear again. My voice is a cold, quiet command. “Now. Say thank you.”

 Dadicus

 I tighten my grip on your jewels, my fingers applying a steady, increasing pressure through the thin fabric. It’s not a jerk or a yank. It’s a slow, controlled squeeze, a promise of pure, agony if you disobey. My other hand presses harder against your neck, holding your head up, forcing you to look at me with those glassy eyes. “Say ‘thank you, Dadicus.’ For keeping you in the game. For letting you walk to that ring so I can break you properly in front of our fans and put up a great show” My gaze is locked on yours, waiting. The pressure in my hand doesn’t relent. It’s a question... A test... How much pain can you take before you submit.

Daddy_David 

 My body hangs limp against yours, every muscle slack except the frantic thud of my heart under your palm. Breath rasps wet and uneven against your neck. Silver hair clings to my scalp in damp ropes, blood still seeping slow from the cut at my temple. The towel drags across my forehead. Cool damp cloth smears the blood away in one deliberate stroke. Your mutter hits low and flat. Pretty. Begging. The words sink in like hooks. Towel slaps the tile. I flinch at the sound, small and helpless. Your hand slides down. Fingers trace the soaked white fabric over my stomach, find the thick outline of my cock still straining, then drop lower. Grip closes on my balls through the thin material. Firm. Possessive. The squeeze starts slow, controlled, pressure building in steady increments. Sharp heat flares low in my gut, radiates up my spine. Hips twitch forward once before I lock them still. A broken groan slips out, muffled against your shoulder.

Daddy_David 

 Your other hand releases my hair, slams to my neck. Thumb digs into the pulse under my jaw. Presses. Not choking. Just holding. Forcing my head up. Glassy eyes struggle to focus on yours. Vision swims but the lock in your stare cuts through. Pressure on my jewels tightens another notch. Pain sharpens into white-hot wires twisting deep. Legs tremble harder. Knees threaten to give completely. Only your holds keep me vertical. Low whimper escapes before I bite it back. You lean in. Lips brush my ear. Cold command. “Now. Say thank you.” Squeeze increases. Steady. Relentless. Agony promises to bloom into something unbearable. Neck pinned. Head forced up. No escape. I drag in a shuddering breath. Throat works. Lips part. Voice cracks out, slurred and small. “Fuck you.” The words come out raw, defiant, barely above a rasp. The grip ratchets up hard. Fresh spike of pain rips through me, vision graying at the edges. Body jerks once, involuntary. Eyes flutter, half roll back, then snap forward to meet yours again. Voice breaks worse this time. Rough. Spitting. “Fuck you, Dadicus.” Each syllable drags through clenched teeth. No gratitude. No surrender. Just venom wrapped in pain.

 Dadicus

 A broken groan vibrates against my shoulder. Your voice, cracked and slurred, spits its defiance into the space between us. “Fuck you.” Then, again, worse, raw with pain and venom: “Fuck you, Dadicus.” A slow, wide grin spreads across my face. It’s not friendly. It’s feral. “Ooh,” I breathe out, a low sound of pure delight. “So you do still have some fight in you. Good.” My grip on your jewels tightens another brutal, deliberate notch. I feel your whole body jerk against mine, a violent spasm of agony. I hold it there for a second, letting the pain speak for me. Then, in one smooth, powerful motion, I shift my stance. My hand still clamped around your balls becomes a leverage point. I heave, using my legs and back, and lift you clean off your trembling feet. Your dead weight settles across my shoulders in a fireman carry, your ass in the air, your head hanging down my shoulder. I give that big, round ass a loud, stinging slap that echoes in the silent locker room. “Wouldn’t want to be late for our match,” I grunt, adjusting your weight.

 Dadicus

 I turn and start walking, my strides long and steady despite your bulk. Your body jostles with each step. I can feel your shallow, pained breaths against my back. I give another sharp, upward jerk on your body, making you bounce on my shoulder, a clear display of control. That’s when I hear it. The thumping bass of your entrance music bleeding through the walls. The announcer’s voice, tinny and distant: “Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the stage… DADDY DAVID!” A smirk splits my face. I chuckle, a dark, happy sound. “Well,” I say to the empty hallway, or maybe to your limp form. “Can’t miss your entrance.” I shove the heavy door to the arena open with my shoulder. The wall of sound hits me first... the roar of the crowd, the pounding music. Then the smells: spilled beer, cheap cologne, the salty sweat of a hundred excited men. The lights are blinding. I step out into the tunnel mouth. For a second, there’s just the music and the spotlight searching for its star. Then the light finds us. Me. Dadicus. Walking calmly to the ring. And slung over my shoulder like a sack of meat: you. Daddy David. The man whose music is playing.

 Dadicus

 A wave of confusion, then a surge of deafening noise rolls over the arena. Some are cheering in shocked delight. Others are booing or just staring, mouths agape. I drink it in. I stride down the ramp, your music still blaring for an entrance you’re not making. I give your ass another loud, showman’s slap for the crowd. I jerk my shoulder, bouncing your body for all to see. The announcer, confused, stammers into his mic. “I… I guess this No Holds Barred fight has already started! Dadicus has Daddy David on his shoulders and he’s… he’s walking him to the ring!” I reach the corner post. I don’t bother and drop you to the ground. I step close to you and pick your body up spreading your legs wide open and then slamming the post right in between your legs "ding, ding ,ding Mother fucker... the match has just begone" I grunt. I grab you and toss you Inside the ring, under the harsh lights, I finally come in and Flex to the crowd. I stand over you, one boot planted near your head, and raise my arms to the crowd. The roar is immense. I look down at you, sprawled and beaten before the bell, and my grin is all teeth. “Your music was nice,” I shout down at you, my voice barely carrying over the din. “But this is my show now.”

 

Daddy_David 

 Pain explodes white-hot through my groin as your grip cranks another vicious notch. My whole body convulses against you, a hard, involuntary jerk that rips a choked, guttural groan from deep in my chest. Legs give completely this time. No strength left to fight the spasm. Vision tunnels black at the edges again, sparks popping behind my eyes. Then you shift. Your hand locked on my balls becomes the center. You heave. Legs and back drive upward in one brutal motion. My feet leave the tile. World flips. Stomach drops. Suddenly I'm airborne for half a heartbeat, then draped across your broad shoulders in a fireman's carry. My head hangs down your back, silver hair swinging, blood dripping slow from my temple onto the floor behind us. Ass up high, exposed, white trunks stretched tight and soaked transparent across both cheeks. The slap lands hard. Open palm cracks against my right glute with a sharp, echoing smack that bounces off every locker. Flesh jiggles. Fresh sting blooms instant and bright. I hiss through clenched teeth, body arching reflexively over your shoulders. Cock still traitorously thick throbs painfully against the fabric where it's mashed into your trap. Balls scream under the unrelenting clamp of your fingers, every jolt of your stride sending fresh spikes up into my gut.

Daddy_David 

I try to drag in air. It comes in wet, ragged hitches. Chest heaves against the heat of your back. One arm dangles limp down your front, knuckles brushing your abs. The other hangs useless behind you. No fight to push off. No leverage. Just dead weight riding your shoulders like a trophy. Your grunt rumbles through me. "Wouldn’t want to be late for our match." Another step. Another jolt. My head lolls. Vision swims with every bounce. The locker room blurs past in streaks of gray metal and silent staring faces. Guys still frozen, towels clutched, eyes wide. No one moves. No one speaks. I force words out. Voice cracked, slurred, upside-down and breathless. "Put… me… down… you fuck." It lacks bite. More plea than threat. Pain steals the edge. Each word vibrates against your shoulder blade. You don't answer. Just keep walking. Steady. Purposeful. Toward the gorilla position. My ass sways with every stride. The soaked trunks ride up higher, fabric wedged obscene between my cheeks. Another small slap wouldn't surprise me. Or worse. Head hangs heavier. Consciousness flickers again. Closer this time. The world narrows to the thud of your boots, the burn in my balls, the sting on my ass, the relentless pressure of your grip keeping me exactly where you want me.

Daddy_David 

 The bass throbs through my skull like a second heartbeat. Each long stride you take sends fresh jolts through my body, ribs grinding against your shoulder, balls still locked in your merciless grip, every bounce a reminder of how completely you've claimed control. My head dangles upside down, silver hair swinging in wet ropes. Vision swims with the motion. The world is inverted: ceiling lights streak past, locker-room doors blur by, then the heavy door groans open and the arena swallows us whole. Sound crashes over me first. Roaring. Deafening. Thirty thousand voices layered into one hungry wave. My entrance music, my music, blares loud enough to rattle my teeth. The announcer's voice cuts through, tinny and triumphant: “Ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the stage… DADDY DAVID!” The irony lands like another slap. My own theme playing while I'm carried out like conquered prey. A dark, broken laugh tries to crawl up my throat. It comes out as a wet cough instead, blood flecking my lips. The spotlight finds us. It pins me, head down, ass up, white trunks soaked and riding high, every curve and bulge on obscene display. The crowd noise spikes, shock, laughter, cheers, boos, all tangled together. Phones flash. I can feel the heat of a thousand stares crawling over my skin. You don't rush. You walk calm and deliberate down the ramp, my bulk no burden at all. Another upward jerk. My body bounces hard on your shoulder. A sharp grunt punches out of me, pain lancing from groin to spine. Legs kick once, weakly, uselessly, before going limp again. The motion grinds my cock against your trap, thick and throbbing despite everything. Humiliation burns hotter than the ache. My arms dangle. One hand brushes your abs with every step, fingers too weak to claw, too heavy to pull back. The other swings loose behind you. Blood drips faster now, warm trails down my forehead, into my eyes, stinging. I blink it away. Vision doubles, triples, then steadies just enough to see the ring growing closer

Daddy_David 

 The drop is sudden. Brutal. Body crashes to the thinly padded floor outside the ring. Heavy thud jars every muscle. Air explodes out in a sharp gasp. Legs splay wide. Head snaps back against the apron edge. Silver hair fans out in damp strands across the mat. Hands clamp my thighs. Fingers sink deep into muscle. Legs forced wide, obscene, helpless, spread so far the soaked white trunks pull tight across my groin. Then the steel post rams straight into my balls. Impact is catastrophic. Metal crushes tender flesh with a dull, meaty thud. Pain erupts white-hot, liquid fire that spears upward through my cock, my sack, my core. A raw, guttural scream rips from my throat, high, broken, desperate, shattering over the music and the crowd roar. Body convulses violently. Hips snap forward once, twice, then seize rigid. Legs kick wildly in the air before collapsing limp. Nausea rolls hot through my stomach. I choke on a wet whimper, spit drooling from parted lips. Bell rings late. Pointless. Hands haul me up. Dead weight. Rag doll. Tossed under the bottom rope. I skid across canvas on my back, arms flopping, legs trailing. Ring lights burn down merciless. Chest heaves in frantic bursts. White trunks cling transparent, sweat-soaked, outlining every thick inch of my cock, the heavy swell of my balls now throbbing visibly beneath the stretched fabric.

Daddy_David 

 I curl inward instantly. Legs snap toward my chest. Hands claw at my groin, cupping, cradling, fingers trembling as they press the ruined jewels through the thin cotton. Body rocks forward onto all fours, then drops flat again. Hips grind down hard against the mat—slow, deliberate, humping motions born of pure desperation. Each roll drags my swollen cock along the rough canvas, the friction both torture and obscene relief. Pre leaks steadily now, darkening the front of the trunks in a spreading wet patch. Fabric clings tighter with every thrust, riding higher, wedging deep between my ass cheeks—splitting them wide, exposing the cleft completely. The white material disappears into the crack like a thong, biting into skin, framing my ass in humiliating detail as it flexes and rolls with each helpless grind. No words. Just animal sounds, low, throaty moans vibrating in my chest, high-pitched keens whenever a fresh wave of agony pulses through my crushed nuts. Hips keep pumping, slow, rhythmic, like porn, ass lifting and dropping, cheeks clenching around the wedged fabric, cock sliding slick against the mat in long, needy strokes. The motion is shameless, degrading, every grind broadcasting how badly I need relief, how completely the pain has stripped me of dignity. Sweat beads down my back, pools in the dimples above my ass. Silver hair sticks to my flushed face. Eyes squeeze shut. Teeth sink into my lower lip to muffle the moans.

 Dadicus

 The sight is pathetic. Beautiful, but pathetic. You’re dumped on the canvas like a gutted fish, curled around your own agony. Your hips are grinding against the mat, slow and desperate, your cock making a wet, dark stain on the front of your soaked trunks. Every helpless thrust, every choked moan, is a symphony of humiliation played just for me and this roaring crowd. I stand over you, my shadow falling across your twitching body. I let you have a few more seconds of it. Let everyone see the great Daddy David reduced to humping the floor for a shred of relief. Then I lean down, my voice a low growl meant only for you over the noise of the crowd. “I see you trying to get some relief any way you can… a sight to see. But I’m the one who gets to humiliate you. You don’t get to do that all by yourself.” My hands shoot out. I grab you by the shoulder and the hip, my fingers digging in, and in one brutal motion, I flip you onto your back. Before you can even register the new position, I drive my elbow down like a piston into the center of your chest. CRACK.

 Dadicus

 The sound is sickening, even through the noise. Your body arches off the mat, a silent scream on your lips. I pull my arm back and crash the point of my elbow down on the same spot. Again. And again. Each impact is a thunderclap of focused violence. I can feel your ribs protesting, your sternum shuddering under the assault. I lean over you, my face inches from yours, my breath hot. “I thought you said you were gonna pin me,” I snarl, my voice dripping with contempt. “I thought you said you were gonna shove that hard cock down my throat.” I slam my elbow down once more for emphasis. “Not looking so good for you now, huh?”

 

 Dadicus

 Before you can gasp a reply, I move. In one fluid motion, I swing my leg over your torso and drop my full weight onto you, settling into a deep schoolboy pin. My thighs clamp around your ribs, squeezing the air from your bruised chest. I trap both your arms beneath my legs, rendering you utterly helpless. I look down at you, your face a mask of pain and shock. One of my hands comes down and grabs the soaked, swollen bulge of your cock through your trunks. I give it a soft, threatening squeeze... not enough to rupture, but enough to make you whimper and your eyes widen in fresh terror. I bring my other hand to the waistband of my own yellow trunks, pulling the fabric forward so the substantial outline of my own bulge is prominent. “Listen close,” I say, my voice cold and absolute. I lean closer, my bulge hovering near your face. “If you don’t want me to break these for good…” I tighten my grip on your balls slightly, making you jerk. “…you better open up. And you better give a good taste of what’s coming with no teeth, you fucker.” I don't wait for permission. I shove the clothed, firm weight of my cock against your mouth, grinding it against your lips. It’s a dominant, degrading act, a mockery of your earlier threat. The message is clear: This is what ownership looks like. You wanted to fuck my throat? I’m going to make you service me first, right here in the center of the ring, while you’re pinned and broken beneath me.

 

 

Daddy_David 

 The first repeat elbow crashes down point sharp, driving into bruised sternum. Fresh thunderclap of pain explodes outward. Body arches again, higher this time, spine bowing violently, mouth gaping in soundless agony before a raw, guttural scream rips free. Ribs creak under pressure. Breath stalls completely. Second elbow follows fast. Same spot. Sternum shudders inward, bones grinding. Vision whites out. Convulsion racks me, hips snap up once, then slam back down. Legs kick weakly, heels scraping canvas. Soaked trunks shift higher, wedgie biting deeper, cheeks clenching around fabric as ass flexes in helpless spasm. Third strike lands harder. Crack echoes louder. Sternum caves further, sharp, nauseating grind. Air finally returns in panicked wheezes, shallow, whistling. Chest heaves frantic. Each inhale knives deeper. Exhales break into low, throaty moans that vibrate through clenched teeth. You lean close. Breath hot on my flushed face. Words drip contempt, pinning, throat, hard cock. Mockery burns hotter than impacts. Final elbow slams for emphasis. Sternum screams. Body bucks once, hard, then collapses flat. Arms flop limp. Legs tremble, spread wide. Hips twitch in slow, humiliated circles, cock grinding swollen length against canvas through dark wet stain. Pre leaks thicker, fabric clinging obscene. Ass lifts slightly with each roll, wedgie framing cleft completely, cheeks parting wider in degrading display. Eyes flutter, glassy, half-lidded, staring up at your snarling face. Silver hair plastered damp across forehead. Chest rises too fast, bruised purple already blooming under skin. No words. Only broken sounds: high keens on exhale, low whimpers when pain spikes. Cock pulses visibly, thick, leaking, hips grinding desperately for any relief amid ruin. Crowd roars wild, chants, laughter, flashes blinding. Phones capture every twitch, every grind, every defeated moan. Sprawled beneath you, chest caved, ribs protesting, body trembling, humping mat in erotic shame, utter

Daddy_David 

 Your full weight settles onto my torso in a crushing schoolboy pin. Your thighs clamp tightly around my bruised ribs and force the remaining air from my lungs in a sharp wheezing exhale. My chest compresses further. The sternum throbs with every shallow pant. Both arms remain pinned helplessly beneath your legs. There is no leverage and no escape. My body arches instinctively. The squeeze drives deeper pain through my core. Your hand closes around the swollen bulge in my soaked white trunks. The soft threatening squeeze sends a jolt of terror through me. My cock stays thick, leaking, and traitorously hard. It pulses under your fingers. My eyes widen in fresh panic. A low broken whimper escapes my lips. My hips twitch upward in helpless reflex.

Daddy_David 

 You pull your yellow trunks forward. The prominent outline of your own bulge looms close to my face. Heat radiates from it. The fabric stretches taut. Your voice cuts cold and absolute. The threat lands hard. Break them for good. Your grip tightens slightly on my balls. My body jerks violently beneath you. Legs kick weakly. My ass clenches around the deep wedgie. Another whimper spills out muffled and desperate. You do not wait. The clothed firmness of your cock presses against my mouth. You grind it slowly across my lips in a dominant degrading deliberate motion. The fabric drags over my tongue as my mouth parts involuntarily from the pressure. The taste of sweat and musk floods my senses. My eyes squeeze shut for a second then flutter open glassy humiliated and staring up at your face. No resistance remains. My jaw slackens under the grind. My lips part wider accepting the clothed length in shallow trembling submission. My tongue flattens instinctively against the fabric soft careful and with no teeth as you rock forward. Each slow thrust smears pre through the yellow material onto my tongue. My hips beneath you twitch in tiny shameful circles. My cock grinds uselessly against your palm. Pre leaks thicker. The stain spreads wider across white cotton. My chest heaves frantically under your thighs. My ribs protest every breath. My arms strain uselessly pinned. My ass lifts slightly with each helpless roll. The wedgie bites deeper. My cheeks stay exposed and clenching. The crowd roars deafening with chants laughter and blinding flashes. Phones capture every degrading second including my face buried under your grinding bulge my body pinned and trembling and my cock leaking in humiliated pulses.

Dadicus

 I feel it first... a warm, wet spot blooming where your mouth is working. My pre, leaking through my yellow trunks, soaking into the material. A dark, damp patch of pure arousal. A feral grin splits my face. Your lips are slack, your tongue moving in shallow, trembling strokes against the cloth. You’re doing it. You’re actually doing it. “Yeah,” I growl, my voice rough with dominance and the roar of the crowd. “Fucking eat that cock.” My hand, grips the waistband of my trunks and pulls down. The elastic snaps against my hips. The pressure releases, and my own girthy, thick 8 inches springs out, already hard and eager, glistening at the tip as a ribbon of pre detaches from my brief. I don’t give you a second to react. I don’t ask. I guide the mushroom head of my cock to your wet, parted lips and push forward. There’s a moment of resistance... the instinctive clench of your throat... then I’m in. I slide past your lips, over your flattened tongue, and bury myself deep until I feel the head nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes fly open wide, a fresh wave of panic and humiliation flooding your way.

 

Dadicus

 I hold there for a second, letting you feel the full, invasive weight of me. Letting the crowd see it. Letting every camera flash capture the moment your defiance was physically swallowed. “Come on,” I snarl, my hands moving to your legs. I grab your ankles, yanking them up and apart, spreading you wide for the arena. I pull your legs up until your knees are near your ears, contorting your body, putting your ass on full display, the white trunks wedged impossibly deep. “Let me see it.” With your body completely controlled, pinned and spread beneath me, I start to move. I don’t just thrust in and out. I grind my hips in slow, side-to-side circles, fucking your mouth at a vile, possessive angle. The ridge of my cockhead drags against the roof of your mouth with each rotation. My balls slap against your chin.

 

Dadicus

 My eyes are locked on yours, watching every tear that wells, every gag reflex you fight down. My own pre mixes with your saliva getting me all wet and hard, creating a slick, obscene mess that drips from the corners of your stretched lips. I have you in full control. Pinned by my weight. Spread by my hands. Fed by my cock. Every twitch of your trapped body, every choked sound around my shaft, every pulsing leak from your own imprisoned cock... it’s all a symphony of how this match will end up, played for everyone to see. I lean down closer, my free hand coming to rest threateningly on your bruised chest again. “That’s it,” I grunt, my hips never stopping their slow, grinding rotation as I flex for everyone to see. “Take it all. This is what you wanted, right? To own me? This is what owning looks like to you, David. You, on your back, eating my dick while the whole world watches.”

Daddy_David

 My throat is stuffed fully, your thick cock buried deep in my throat. Spit floods everywhere, running down my chin in thick, humiliating streams, pooling on my neck, dripping onto the mat under my head. My eyes are streaming tears, vision blurring from the flashes and the burn, cheeks flushed dark with shame and heat. But something snaps. A low, guttural growl builds in my chest—muffled around your shaft My hands, clawing uselessly at the mat finally move. I plant them hard on the backs of your thighs, fingers digging into muscle, nails biting skin just enough to sting. I push up with sudden, brutal force, trying to unseat you, trying to throw you off balance even as my folded body screams in protest. My abs contract hard, thighs flexing against your grip on my ankles, hips bucking upward in a sharp, desperate thrust, not to take more, but to fight back. My throat convulses deliberately this time not just a helpless gag, but a hard, rhythmic swallow around your length, squeezing tight like a fist, trying to force you to pull back or lose control. I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard on the upstroke when you grind, tongue pressing flat and dragging rough along the underside, teeth grazing just enough to threaten without breaking skin, warning you that I’m still in this fight.

Daddy_David

I twist my hips violently to the side, trying to roll us, trying to flip the position even though my legs are still hauled high and spread wide, white trunks wedged deep, ass exposed and clenching. My own cock jumps in my trunks, leaking harder from the strain, from the humiliation of fighting while folded like a bitch, but I don’t care. I buck again, harder, muscles straining, shoulders lifting off the mat as I try to arch and shove you backward. The crowd roars louder, sensing the shift, the sudden struggle. Cameras flash in frantic bursts. My eyes lock on yours, still teary, still glassy, but burning now with something feral. I’m shaking, trembling from the stretch and the effort, throat raw and spasming around you, but I’m not taking it anymore. I swallow again, harder, squeezing your cock like I’m trying to choke the cum right out of you before you can finish wrecking me.

Dadicus

 The sensation is sudden and violent. One second I’m buried deep in your throat, riding the high of total control, feeling your helpless swallows and tears. The next, your throat isn’t just taking it... it’s fighting. A hard, rhythmic convulsion grips my cock like a vise, a deliberate, muscular squeeze that isn’t submission. Shit!. My own hips stutter for a split second. That’s all you need. Your hands, which had been clawing at the mat, shoot up and plant hard on the backs of my thighs. You push up with a brutal, surprising force, your abs and thighs flexing against my grip. My balance wavers. I feel the shift. I feel the fight flooding back into your broken body. Big mistake, flashes through my mind. I underestimated you.

Dadicus

 I try to reassert my weight, to shove you back down, but your legs... the ones I had hauled up and spread are no longer just props. They become weapons. They snake down with shocking speed, hooking in front of my flexed arms, then wrapping tight around my biceps, trapping my arms. “Mghh!” The grunt is punched out of me as my own forward momentum, combined with your upward thrust and the leverage of your legs, does the rest. You roll us. The world tilts. The roar of the crowd becomes a deafening wave of shock. My back slams into the canvas with a thud. My cock, wet and glistening, is ripped from your mouth with a sickening pop. “No… NO!! NO!!… FUCK!” The words are a raw, furious snarl ripped from my throat.

 

Dadicus

 I’m on my back. My arms are pinned, folded awkwardly and trapped under the crushing pressure of your thighs. Your weight is on top of me now, your body folded over mine, your face hovering above me, dripping with spit and tears and fierce, defiant rage. For a second, we’re frozen there in the center of the ring, a perfect, reversed tableau of what we were moments ago. The crowd is absolutely unhinged. The camera flashes are a continuous strobe. I stare up at you, my chest heaving, fury and a sharp, grudging respect warring in my gut. You’re trembling from the effort, your throat must be on fire, but you did it. You flipped me. A slow, dangerous smile spreads across my face, even pinned beneath you. It’s not a smile of amusement. It’s the smile of a predator who just found out his prey has teeth and get to play.

Daddy_David

 My thighs stay locked iron-tight around your pinned arms, crushing them flat to the mat as I shift my weight forward with vicious purpose. I don’t speak. My right hand shoots down between our bodies like a striking claw. Fingers spread wide, then curl hard nails digging straight into the soaked yellow fabric stretched over your bulging cock and heavy balls. I rake my nails down the thick outline first, dragging deep enough to sting through the thin material, then clamp my whole hand around the swollen package and twist. A sharp, brutal wrench clockwise, then counter crushing your balls together and yanking your trapped cock sideways in one violent motion. The wet fabric bunches and stretches under my grip, your pre squirting out in fresh dark streaks as I squeeze and torque harder. I don’t let go. My fingers dig deeper, nails biting into the sensitive skin through the trunks while I keep twisting slow, deliberate, mean mashing your balls together, stretching the sac, grinding the heel of my palm down on the thick shaft until I feel it throb and jump helplessly against the pressure. My own heavy cock slaps and drags across the back of my hand with every vicious twist, smearing more spit and pre over the already ruined fabric. My thighs flex, keeping your arms completely immobilized while I keep clawing and twisting your bulge and balls without mercy harder, tighter, meaner turning your soaked trunks into a mangled, leaking mess under my relentless attack. The crowd screams louder as the cameras flash, catching every cruel dig of my nails and every savage twist of Daddy’s hand crushing your most vulnerable spot.

Dadicus

 The world is upside down. My back is on the mat. My arms are locked, crushed under the vise-grip of your thighs. I try to move but cant. All I can do is stare up at your face, contorted with rage, and feel the cold, hard truth of my mistake settle in my gut. Then I see your hand move. My eyes snap down. Your right hand... fingers spread like a claw... darts between our bodies. It’s coming straight for me. I know what’s coming before it lands. A cold dread lances through my fury. “No… no… Not the balls” The plea is out of my mouth before I can stop it, raw and stripped of all pride. "MGHAAAA!" Your hand closes... Not a grab... A wrench. Your fingers curl through the yellow fabric of my trunks, nails digging deep into the tender flesh beneath. You don’t just squeeze. You twist. A white-hot nova of pain explodes in my groin, shooting up my spine and detonating behind my eyes. My back arches off the mat in a violent, involuntary spasm. My legs, which had been scrambling for purchase, buckle. “AGHHH!”

Dadicus

 The sound is torn from me, a guttural, animal roar of pure shock and pain. My hands fly instinctively to protect myself, but they’re trapped, pinned uselessly by your legs. My fingers claw at empty air. “Let go, you… mgh… ngha… FUCKER!” The words come in broken, gasped fragments, shredded by the pressure. My breath hitches in ragged, desperate heaves. My abs tighten into a solid, painful slab of muscle, but it does nothing to stop the violation. I can feel it happening. The pressure is immense, relentless. Your grip is a crushing, twisting torment of pure malice. Through the blinding pain, I feel a hot, shameful rush in my own trapped cock. A fresh, dark patch blooms on the front of my yellow trunks... my own pre, leaking out under your assault. The wet spot spreads, a visible flag of my humiliation for the whole arena to see. I grunt and gasp from your touch... You don’t let up. You grind the heel of your palm down on the shaft, twisting my balls together in a brutal, grinding motion. Every tiny movement sends fresh jolts of nauseating pain and pleasure through my system. The crowd’s roar is a distant, muffled thunder. All I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears and my own choked, ragged breathing.

Dadicus

 I stare up at you, my vision swimming. And the worst part? My body, traitorously, is still reacting. A thick, throbbing pulse answers each vicious squeeze from your hand. The humiliation is complete, physical, and absolute "as I squirm under your grasp. But beneath the pain and the shame, a cold, hard kernel of fury refuses to die. It’s buried under an avalanche of agony, but it’s there. Waiting... waiting to make you pay.

Daddy_David

 My thighs stay locked like a vice around your pinned arms crushing them flat to the mat as I loom over you chest heaving. My hand is still buried in your soaked yellow trunks fingers curled deep into the tender flesh of your balls. I squeeze harder brutal unrelenting until the heavy sac is completely crushed in my grip balls mashed together so tight I feel them flatten under the pressure. Your cock throbs helplessly against my palm as I grind the heel of my hand down on the thick shaft flattening it painfully against your body.

Daddy_David

 Then without warning I cock my fist back and slam a hard sharp punch straight into your trapped cock. The impact is vicious knuckles smashing directly into the swollen leaking length through the thin fabric. The wet thud cuts through the roar of the crowd as your entire body convulses violently beneath me. I hold the crushing grip on your balls for one final savage second then release everything at once. My hand yanks away. My thighs unlock from your arms. I shove off you and roll back rising to my knees on the mat breathing hard sweat and spit still dripping from my chin. My eyes stay locked on you cold furious satisfied as I watch you curl in on yourself gasping the front of your yellow trunks now a ruined dark soaked mess from the brutal punishment. Daddy just reminded you who is really in charge.

Dadicus

 The world is a white-hot tunnel of pain. A deep, sickening ache that radiates from my groin up through my gut, turning my muscles to water. My head thrashes side to side on the canvas, a silent scream locked behind my gritted teeth. Every instinct screams to protect myself, to curl into a ball... but cant. My leg tries to shoot, a failed attempt... You see it coming. Before I can even fully extend it, your fist cocks back and fires downward like a piston. It isn’t an open-handed grab this time. It’s a hard, compact punch, knuckles-first, aimed with vicious precision. THUD!!!. The impact lands directly on my already-throbbing, trapped cock through the soaked yellow fabric. The air leaves my lungs in a single, shattered gasp “UGHRRAA…” that turns into a wet, hacking cough. My body jackknifes, every muscle seizing at once. Stars explode behind my eyes. My vision swims with watery eyes.

Dadicus

 Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure vanishes. Your hand yanks away. Your thighs unlock from my arms. The weight of you is gone, leaving me cold and broken on the mat. My own hands, now free, shoot down between my legs. I cup myself through the ruined trunks, my whole body curling inward around the agony. The yellow fabric is stretched, twisted, and stained a dark, wet mess from the brutal punishment. I can feel my own heartbeat pulsing angrily in my bruised flesh. This mistake has cost me. The control, the dominance, the narrative... all shattered with a few seconds of ruthless violence. Gritting my teeth against the nausea, I force myself to move. I don’t stand. I crawl. One hand clamped over my groin, the other dragging my body toward the edge of the ring. My fingers find the rough, elastic give of the bottom rope. I use it to haul myself up to one knee. The world tilts, still kneeling, I give a check on my balls and cock, hands massage the aching bulge, probing through the wet fabric. The relief is instant and immense... the material, though soaked and stretched, protected the skin. No deep bruises from your nails, no broken skin. Just deep, throbbing pain.

Dadicus

 That’s when I see you from the corner of my watering eye. You’re back on your feet, pacing, a predator seeing wounded prey. You’re coming back for more, your chest heaving, your eyes fixed on me. I’m on one knee, hurting, vulnerable. The disadvantage is absolute. You close the distance, confident, hungry. As you lean down to grab me, your hands reaching for me, I don’t try to rise. I don’t try to grapple. I coil the last of my strength into my planted leg and kick out backward like a mule. It’s not pretty. It’s not technical. It’s pure, desperate survival. My heel connects with a solid, meaty impact right between your legs. The shock travels up your body. You make a sharp sound, oof of pure surprise... before your forward momentum doubles you over. You stumble, topple sideways, and crash onto the mat with a heavy thud next to me. I don’t wait eyes darting taking advantage of this opening.

 

Daddy_David

My body folds instantly the moment your heel slams between my legs. A sickening, heavy thud of impact explodes through my groin. My balls take the full brutal force of the kick, crushed upward against my body in a white-hot blast of agony that steals every ounce of air from my lungs. I make a sharp, involuntary sound, half grunt, half choked groan, before the pain doubles me over like a folding chair. My knees buckle. My hands instinctively fly down to cup my battered bulge, but it’s too late. The momentum from leaning in sends me stumbling sideways, legs giving out completely. I crash hard onto the mat beside you with a heavy, jarring thud. My shoulder hits first, then my back, the impact knocking what little breath I had left out of me in a ragged wheeze. For a second I’m curled on my side, one knee drawn up tight to my chest, both hands clutching my throbbing, aching balls through the ruined yellow trunks. The dark wet patch has spread even wider from the fresh surge of pain and involuntary leakage. My thick cock is twitching and pulsing in protest, still half-hard despite the vicious kick, the fabric clinging obscenely to every swollen ridge. My chest heaves in short, desperate gasps. Sweat and spit still drip from my face onto the canvas. My eyes are squeezed shut for a moment, jaw clenched tight as I fight through the nauseating wave of pain radiating up into my gut. Even through the haze, I feel you moving, see you taking advantage of the opening. I force my eyes open, glaring up at you from the mat, breathing hard through gritted teeth. One hand still protectively cupping my crushed balls. The crowd is roaring wildly, sensing the chaos, the back-and-forth brutality.

Dadicus

 The second your body crumples, hitting the mat with that heavy, final thud, my own pain becomes a secondary concern. It’s still there... a deep, sickening ache throbbing in my groin... but it’s fuel now, not a cage. I scramble backward on my knees, then roll my body under the bottom rope, spilling out onto the hard arena floor. The cold floor is a shock against my skin. I push myself to my feet, one hand still massaging my bruised balls through the soaked, ruined yellow fabric. I put a few feet of distance between me and the ring, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. The crowd’s roar is a wall of sound. While you’re still curled on the canvas, fighting the nausea. I act, my movements sharp with purpose despite the pain. I duck between the ropes, my eyes locked on you. You’re on your side, one hand cupped over your groin, your eyes glaring up at me through a haze of agony.

Dadicus

 No time for a breather. I need to act fast and go on the offensive... my hands darting out. One grabs your ankle tight under my grip. I yank hard, dragging you across the canvas.. your body slides with a rough shhhhk until your close the corner turnbuckle post. Before you can react, my other hand snakes out and seizes your other leg. I wrench them apart, spreading you wide open, vulnerable. The white trunks are a mess, the dark stain spreading, your swollen bulge clearly outlined. Then, using the post as my anchor and your own legs as levers, I pull. I don’t just pull you toward the post. I pull you into it. I bring your hips crashing forward with a huge THUD!!, and with one brutal, decisive heave, I slam your groin... your balls, your cock, the whole tender package... directly into the hard, unforgiving corner of the steel post. CRUNCH!!!

 

Dadicus

 I don’t let go of your legs. I can feel you seize up, your whole body going rigid. A strangled, airless scream is trapped in your throat. I move fast, transitioning the chaos into control. Still holding your legs apart, I swing my own leg over, twisting my body. In seconds, I’ve locked you in a Figure-Four Leglock, but I’m not using my legs for the submission pressure. Not primarily. I’m using the post. Your legs are scissored in my hold, but your hips are still pinned against that steel corner. I drop my weight down, sitting back into the hold, and the movement grinds your trapped groin harder into the post. I use it as a fulcrum, a point of concentrated, agonizing leverage. “Now scream, you fucker!” I snarl, my face close to yours. My own breath is hot and ragged. “You wanted to fuck with my balls? Let’s see how you enjoy it!” I begin to jerk my body up and down. Each small movement drives the hard edge of the post deeper into your crushed, vulnerable flesh. It’s a slow, sadistic torture, using the ring itself as a weapon. The Figure-Four keeps you immobilized, legs locked and throbbing spread-eagled and helpless, while the post does the dirty work. I lean back, putting more pressure on the hold, making sure you feel every second of it. The crowd is on its feet, a mixture of horror and exhilaration on their faces. I keep my eyes locked, watching for the exact moment the defiant fury in your gray eyes shatters into pure, unadulterated pain.

 

Daddy_David

 The impact hits like a freight train. CRUNCH!!! A sickening, wet crack explodes through my groin as my swollen, already aching bulge slams full-force into the sharp steel corner of the turnbuckle post. The thin white fabric of my trunks offers zero protection. My cock and balls are crushed brutally between my own body weight and the unforgiving metal. Fresh, white-hot agony detonates deep in my nuts, radiating up into my gut like liquid fire. I let out a raw, guttural scream that tears from my throat and cuts through the roaring crowd. My entire body convulses violently on the canvas. My legs jerk and spasm wildly in your iron grip as you refuse to let go. Instead, you keep my legs wrenched wide apart, forcing my hips to stay pinned hard against that brutal steel post. You grind me into it for several long, merciless seconds, making sure the damage sinks in deep. The nausea surges violently. My abs clench hard, my mouth opens in a desperate gasp, and for a moment it feels like I might actually puke right there on the mat from the sheer depth of the low blow. My cock, which had been swollen and heavy from the adrenaline and earlier abuse, betrays me completely. The crushing pain is too much. It shrinks rapidly inside the soaked white trunks, going soft and tiny, retreating pathetically until the front of my trunks looks almost flat  just a small, shrunken outline where my once-proud bulge had been. The dark wet stain from earlier only makes the humiliating shrinkage more obvious to everyone watching. The pain in my balls is nauseating  deep, heavy, throbbing with every heartbeat. Every tiny shift of my body sends fresh spikes through my groin. My voice comes out hoarse and strained, barely more than a growl: “F-fuck… you…”My hands stay pressed hard against my soft, tiny, aching bulge, trying to shield whatever’s left. My legs tremble as I try to uncurl just enough to push away from the corner, but the pain keeps me folded, breathing ragged.

Daddy_David

 Instead of releasing my ankles, you keep my legs wrenched wide apart in your iron grip. My whole body seizes up instantly  every muscle going rigid as fresh lightning bolts of agony rip through my groin. A strangled, airless scream gets trapped in my throat, coming out as nothing but a choked, guttural wheeze. You move fast, transitioning the chaos into total control. Still holding my legs spread, you swing your own leg over mine, twisting your body with vicious precision. In seconds, you’ve locked me into a Figure-Four Leglock — but this isn’t about a normal submission. You’re not using your legs for pressure. You’re using the steel post. My legs are scissored tight in your hold, thighs burning, but my hips remain brutally pinned against that sharp corner. You drop your weight back, sitting deep into the Figure-Four, and the movement grinds my already crushed groin even harder into the unforgiving steel. The post becomes a fulcrum  a point of concentrated, sadistic leverage. “Now scream, you fucker!” you snarl, your face inches from mine, hot ragged breath washing over me. “You wanted to fuck with my balls? Let’s see how you enjoy it!” You begin to jerk your body up and down in sharp, deliberate motions. Each small thrust drives the hard edge of the post deeper into my trapped, vulnerable flesh. My cock and balls  already smashed flat and now pathetically soft and tiny inside the soaked white trunks  take the full brunt. The thin fabric does nothing. Every grind forces the steel corner to mash and crush my shrunken package repeatedly, turning the low blow into slow, methodical torture. The Figure-Four keeps me completely immobilized: legs locked, spread-eagled and helpless, while the ring post does the dirty work. You lean back harder, putting even more leverage on the hold, making sure I feel every single second of it. My powerful body is breaking down right in front of the roaring crowd. Another strangled scream finally rips free from deep in my chest  hoarse, bro.

Daddy_David

 “AAAAAAGHHHHH!!! FUCK!!! MY BALLS!!! STOP!!!”The scream echoes through the arena, raw and humiliating. My gray eyes, which once burned with defiance, are now wide with pure panic and agony. Tears leak from the corners as my face contorts. My hands claw desperately at your thighs, slapping and prying weakly, but there’s almost no strength left. Sweat pours down my face and chest in rivers. Every jerk of your body sends fresh waves of nauseating pain exploding through my groin. My tiny, soft cock and crushed balls are being systematically destroyed against the steel post. I can feel them swelling even more from the repeated trauma, yet shrinking further in pathetic retreat inside the ruined white trunks. The crowd is on its feet, a chaotic mix of cheers and gasps at the sight of Daddy David  the big, dominant heel  reduced to screaming and twitching helplessly in the corner. Through the screams and ragged gasps, I manage a weak, broken whimper between jolts of pain:“F-fuuuuck… please… my nuts… I can’t…!”My legs quiver uselessly in your merciless Figure-Four. My whole body trembles, arched against the post, completely at your mercy.

Dadicus

 The sound is everything. Your scream... that raw, ragged, “AAAAAAGHHHHH!!! FUCK!!! MY BALLS!!! STOP!!!”... echoes in the arena, cutting through the crowd’s roar. It’s pure, undiluted agony. And it’s music to my ears. I keep the pressure on, jerking your legs in the Figure-Four, grinding your legs and ruined groin into that steel post with each deliberate, sadistic movement. I watch your face contort, see your squeezed-shut eyes, feel the desperate, weak slaps of your hands against my thighs. Your powerful body trembles and arches, completely broken by the post and the hold. “I hear you moaning and squirming,” I growl, my voice low and intimate despite the chaos around us. But I’m not ready to break you completely. Not yet. Where’s the fun in that? I like to savor my prey. I like to take my time, to play with them, to let the hope drain out drop by drop until there’s nothing left but surrender. A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I hear you mutter “F-fuuuuck… please… my nuts… I can’t…!”. In one smooth, cruel motion, I release the Figure-Four. I unlock my legs and let go of your ankles. Your body slumps against the post, your hands instantly flying down to cup your shattered, shrunken bulge. The relief on your face is instantaneous, pathetic. A broken, wet sob escapes your lips. You look up at me, your gray eyes swimming with pain and humiliation. For a second, you think it’s over. You think you’ve survived the worst of it. That’s when the smirk spreads across my face. “I’m not done.”

Dadicus

 I push myself up from the canvas, my own aches forgotten in the thrill of the hunt. I see your crumpled form and get up the corner. The crowd’s noise swells, confused, then erupts as they realize what’s coming. I place my hands on the top rope, then my boots on the middle. I hoist myself up onto the third turnbuckle, standing tall, looking down at you from my perch. You’re still curled against the opposite post, your world reduced to the fire in your groin, your hands protectively cradling yourself. You look up. Your eyes meet mine and that is when I strike... I don’t hesitate... I push off with everything I have. My body becomes a missile. I launch myself from the top rope. For a split second, I’m airborne, silhouetted against the blinding lights. Then I come crashing down. Both of my boots, with all my 216 pounds behind them, drive directly into the center of your exposed torso... your already bruised ribs, your heaving chest. CRUNCH-THUMP!. The air explodes from your lungs in a voiceless OOF. Your body, already curled around your injured groin, is flattened against the canvas. Your arms fly out from your body, your head snaps back. I land and roll, next to you. The ring shakes from the force. I rise slowly, standing over you. I look down at you, at the dark, wet stain on your white trunks, at your soft, carved body as your chest barely rises and falls.

 

Daddy_David

My body slumps heavily against the post, legs sprawled uselessly on the canvas. The sudden relief makes me gasp. My hands instantly fly down to cup my shattered, shrunken bulge through the soaked white trunks. My once-proud cock is now tiny and soft, my balls throbbing with deep, nauseating pain. A broken, wet sob escapes my lips as I curl forward slightly, cradling the damage. For a second, I think it’s over. I look up at you through watery gray eyes, chest heaving, face twisted in pain and humiliation. I’m panting hard, trying to catch my breath, hoping you’ll back off and let me recover even a little. That’s when the smirk spreads across your face. My stomach drops. Fresh dread floods through me. My hands press tighter against my tiny, aching package as I try to scoot back a bit in the corner, but my legs are too weak and shaky to obey properly. “N-no… wait…” I rasp hoarsely, voice cracking with desperation. “My balls… they’re fucking destroyed… please…”

Daddy_David

 I force my gray eyes open just in time to see you climbing. You plant your boots on the middle rope, then hoist yourself up to the top turnbuckle, standing tall above me like a predator. I’m still curled tight in the corner, world narrowed down to the crushing ache between my legs, hands protectively cradling what’s left of my manhood. Our eyes meet. For one frozen second I realize what’s coming. “No!” Too late. You push off with brutal power. Your 216-pound body becomes a missile, airborne for a split second against the blinding arena lights. Then gravity takes over. Both boots slam down with devastating force CRUNCH-THUMP! directly into the center of my already battered torso. The impact drives straight into my heaving chest and bruised ribs. All the air explodes out of my lungs in a voiceless, agonized “OOF!” My body, still curled around my destroyed groin, is violently flattened against the canvas. My arms fly out limply to the sides, my head snaps back hard against the mat, and a fresh wave of white-hot pain explodes through my ribs and sternum. The ring shakes violently from the force of the landing. You roll off me smoothly and rise to your feet, standing tall over my sprawled, broken form.

Daddy_David

 I lie there flat on my back now, legs splayed weakly, chest barely rising and falling in shallow, desperate gasps. My hands have been knocked away from my crotch by the impact, leaving my soaked white trunks fully exposed, the dark wet stain spread wide, my cock still pathetically soft and tiny, my swollen balls visibly pulsing with every ragged breath. Sweat glistens on my carved abs and chest as I struggle to suck in air that just won’t come. My gray eyes are glassy, staring up at the lights, mouth open in a silent grimace. Every tiny movement sends stabbing pain through my ribs and groin at the same time. A low, broken groan finally escapes me as I try, and fail, to curl back up. I'm reduced to a wheezing, twitching wreck on the canvas, ribs screaming, balls destroyed and shrunken, chest heaving uselessly while the crowd roars. I can barely move. My arms twitch at my sides, one hand weakly drifting back toward my aching crotch, but I don’t have the strength to cover up properly. Through shallow, pained gasps I manage a hoarse, trembling whisper:“…can’t… breathe… fuck…”

Dadicus

 You’re laid out flat, a broken sculpture of muscle and pain. Your chest hitches in shallow, useless gasps. Your arms twitch at your sides. Your hands make a weak, fluttering attempt to crawl back toward your destroyed groin, but they lack the strength. The front of your white trunks is a dark, soaked mess, the outline of your shrunken cock and swollen balls a humiliating display for the thousands watching. A low, broken groan escapes your lips. Your eyes are glassy, staring at nothing. “…can’t… breathe… fuck…” The words are a wet rasp, the sound of a man coming apart. I drink it in. This is the moment. The victory isn’t just in the pin. It’s in the breaking. I don’t celebrate for the crowd. Not yet. Instead, I move with cold, deliberate purpose. I step over your sprawled legs, my shadow falling across your face. I lean down, my fingers tangling in your sweat-soaked, silver-streaked hair. I get a good grip and pull.

Dadicus

 I drag you by your head across the canvas. Your body offers no resistance, just dead weight and pained grunts as you’re hauled toward the ropes. I stop when your shoulders bump against the bottom rope. Working quickly, efficiently, I grab one of your limp arms. I lift it, wrap your hand around the bottom rope, and curl your fingers until they clutch it weakly. I do the same with your other arm, looping it over the bottom rope... but I’m not done. I want you displayed. I grab your right leg, hooking it behind your knee. I lift it, and drape your calf over the middle rope as well. Spreading you wide, locking you in... helpless against the ropes. Your back is arched, your head dangling in the matt floor, your most vulnerable areas utterly exposed. You’re trapped for my own pleasure.

 

Dadicus

 Now for the final touch. I step behind you. I reach forward, my hands sliding... like a snake ready to strangle its prey. I lock my fingers together under your chin. Then I lean back, pulling your upper body with me, arching your back even further. It’s an assisted Camel Clutch, using the ropes for leverage. Your face is turned upward, toward the screaming crowd, twisted in a rictus of agony. Your body is bent and arched over the ropes, held in place by my strength and the tension of the cords. I lean my mouth close to your ear. My voice is a low, venomous growl, meant for you and the cameras picking up every word. “Scream for me, you little fucker,” I snarl, putting more pressure on your back, making the ropes dig into your thighs and arms. “Let them all hear what happens when you get in the ring with me. Let them hear you break.” I increase the pressure, slowly, cruelly. The hold strains your already screaming ribs and grinds your trapped groin against mine. You’re completely helpless, bent backward, your pain and humiliation on full display for every person in this arena, for every camera live-streaming this. “This,” I hiss, my breath hot against your ear, “is your checkmark. This is your legacy. Not as a champion. Not as a tough guy. As my bitch. Now SCREAM.” as I pull and I grind my bulge on yours.

Daddy_David

 I’m laid out flat on my back like a broken sculpture of muscle and pain, chest hitching in shallow, useless gasps. My arms twitch uselessly at my sides. My hands make one weak, fluttering attempt to crawl back toward my destroyed groin, but they don’t have the strength to reach it. The front of my white trunks is now completely see-through, the thin fabric soaked and transparent, clinging obscenely to my skin. My tiny, soft cock and badly swollen balls are fully visible to the entire arena, the humiliating outline on complete display for thousands. A low, broken groan escapes my lips. My gray eyes are glassy, staring up at the lights. “…can’t… breathe… fuck…” The words come out as a wet, pathetic rasp. You step over my sprawled legs, your shadow swallowing me. Before I can even try to move, your fingers tangle roughly in my sweat-soaked, silver-streaked hair. You yank hard and start dragging me across the canvas by my head. My body offers zero resistance, just dead weight and pained grunts as I’m hauled toward the ropes. My heels scrape uselessly behind me. You stop when my shoulders bump the bottom rope. Working quickly, you grab one of my limp arms, lift it, and wrap my hand around the bottom rope, curling my fingers until they clutch it weakly. You do the same with the other arm, looping it over the rope. Then you grab my right leg, hook it behind the knee, and drape my calf over the middle rope, spreading me wide open. My left leg stays slumped on the mat, but the position leaves me trapped and displayed, back arched, head dangling slightly toward the floor outside the ropes, my most vulnerable areas completely exposed. I’m helpless. My powerful body is bent and stretched against the ropes like a piece of meat on display.

Daddy_David

 You step in close behind me. Your hands slide forward like a snake, locking your fingers together under my chin. Then you lean back, pulling my upper body with brutal strength. It becomes an assisted Camel Clutch, using the ropes for leverage. My back arches even further, my face forced upward toward the screaming crowd, twisted in a rictus of pure agony. The ropes dig painfully into my arms and the back of my knee. Your mouth comes close to my ear. Your voice is a low, venomous growl: “Scream for me, you little fucker. Let them all hear what happens when you get in the ring with me. Let them hear you break.” You increase the pressure slowly, cruelly. The hold strains my already screaming ribs and forces my trapped, ruined groin to grind against yours. My tiny, soft cock and swollen balls, clearly visible through the now see-through white trunks, are mashed humiliatingly against your bulge. I can’t hold it in. A raw, broken scream rips out of me... loud, hoarse, and humiliating: “AAAAAAGHHHHHH!!! FUCK!!! MY BACK… MY BALLS!!! STOP!!! PLEASE!!!”The scream echoes through the arena as you pull harder and deliberately grind your bulge against my shrunken, destroyed package. Every roll of your hips sends fresh spikes of agony through my crushed nuts and pathetic little cock, the wet fabric squelching obscenely with each movement. Tears stream down my face. My body trembles violently in the ropes, completely helpless, bent backward and on full display for every person in the arena and every camera. Through the screams and ragged sobs, I manage a weak, broken whimper:“…please… I’m done… you’re breaking me… my balls are fucking ruined…”I'm completely trapped  arched, displayed, and screaming like a bitch while you grind your super cock into my destroyed groin.

Dadicus

 Your scream is a symphony. It’s raw, it’s broken, and it echoes through this entire fucking arena just for me. “AAAAAAGHHHHHH!!! FUCK!!! MY BACK… MY BALLS!!! STOP!!! PLEASE!!!” I drink it in, let it wash over me like the cheers of the crowd. Your body trembles violently against mine, bent backward and utterly broken over the ropes. I keep grinding my bulge against your ruined, shrunken package, feeling the wet fabric squelch, feeling you twitch and spasm with each fresh wave of agony. Your tears mix with your sweat on my forearm. Your whimpers are the best part. “…please… I’m done… you’re breaking me… my balls are fucking ruined…” Music to my fucking ears. But even the sweetest song has to end. I’ve heard your chorus. Now it’s time for the finale.

Dadicus

 With a final, contemptuous shove of my hips, I release the pressure. My hands unlock from under your chin. I let you go... Your body doesn’t crumple so much as it unspools. You slump down, a boneless heap of muscle and pain, sliding down the ropes until you’re a wheezing pile on the canvas. You curl instinctively around your groin, your hands making a feeble attempt to cover yourself. I look down at you, then up at the roaring crowd. Their faces are a blur of exhilaration and bloodlust. “I think it’s time I give the audience what they paid for,” I grunt, my voice loud enough to carry over the noise. I don’t let you rest. I bend down, hook my hands under your armpits, and haul you upright. You’re dead weight, your legs barely holding you. I manhandle you toward the ropes. I lift one of your limp arms, thread it through the space between the top and middle ropes, and force your hand to clutch the top rope. I do the same with your other arm. You’re now hanging forward, your upper body supported by the ropes.

 

Dadicus

 The view for the crowd is perfect. I step behind you. My hands go to your hips. With one sharp yank, I pull your soaked, ruined white trunks down to your mid-thighs. The reaction is instantaneous. A collective gasp, then a swelling wave of cheers and catcalls. Your ass is now bare to the world. And your groin... your once-proud, thick cock is now a pathetic, reddened, soft little thing nestled between your swollen, bruised balls. Every mark, every bit of damage I inflicted is on full, humiliating display. I reach around your body, one hand gripping your throat, the other joining it. I pull back, arching your spine painfully. At the same time, I drive my knee into the small of your back, adding more pressure, bending you further backward over the ropes. I pull you back until your head is near mine. Your face is a mask of pain and shame, your mouth open in ragged gasps. I can smell your sweat, your fear.

 

Dadicus

 I lean in, my lips almost touching your ear. “Tell me,” I snarl, my voice a vicious whisper caught by the mic. “Who does this ass belong to, huh?” I give your throat a slight squeeze. “Let them know.” Before you can even try to form a word, I move. I pull back even harder on your chin, arching you further. At the same time, I turn my head and my mouth crashes against yours... It’s not only a kiss. It’s an invasion... It’s a conquest... My tongue forces its way past your lips, wrestling against yours, claiming your mouth with the same brutality I’ve claimed everything else. It’s deep, wet, and utterly dominant. I can taste your saliva, your sweat, your defeat. The crowd goes absolutely insane, the flashbulbs popping like a hailstorm. I break the kiss as violently as I started it, pulling back just enough to look into your dazed, broken eyes. A string of saliva connects our mouths for a second before it snaps. I shove you forward, letting you slump over the ropes, exposed and destroyed for everyone to see.

Daddy_David

My body releases like a broken puppet. I slide down the ropes in a boneless, trembling heap, collapsing onto the canvas in a wheezing pile of muscle and agony. Instinctively I curl inward, both hands cupping my ruined groin. The completely see-through white trunks cling transparently to my skin, leaving my tiny, soft cock and badly swollen balls fully exposed to the roaring arena. I barely have time to draw a single ragged breath before you’re on me again. You hook your hands under my armpits and haul me up like I weigh nothing. My legs are useless, they buckle immediately. You drag me to the ropes and thread both of my limp arms through the top and middle ropes, forcing my hands to clutch the top cable so I’m hanging forward, chest and torso draped over the ropes for the entire crowd to see. You step behind me. Without warning, your fingers hook into the waistband of my soaked white trunks and yank them roughly down to my mid-thighs. The thin, transparent fabric bunches there uselessly. A huge wave of gasps and mocking cheers erupts as my bare ass is put on full display… along with my pathetic, reddened little cock and bruised, swollen balls hanging exposed between my spread thighs. Before I can even process the humiliation, you reach around and lock both hands around my throat. You pull back hard while driving your knee into the small of my back, bending me brutally over the ropes in a painful arch. My head is yanked back until your mouth is right against my ear. “Tell me,” you growl, voice dripping with venom and loud enough for the microphones to catch, “who does this ass belong to?”

Daddy_David

 I don’t even get the chance to answer. You wrench my chin back further and your mouth crashes into mine. It’s savage, a deep, dominating invasion. Your tongue forces its way in, claiming every inch of my mouth while the crowd loses its mind. Flashbulbs explode everywhere. I can only moan weakly into the kiss, completely overpowered, saliva mixing as you devour my last shred of defiance. When you finally rip your lips away, a thick string of spit still connects us for a heartbeat before it breaks. You shove me forward so I’m left hanging limply over the ropes, bare ass out, ruined cock and balls dangling shamefully for everyone to see. I’m gasping, shaking, voice hoarse and cracking with exhaustion and shame. Tears of pain and humiliation sting my eyes as I hang there, utterly defeated. Through broken, desperate whimpers I start begging: “Please… don’t fuck me… not like this… not in front of all of them… my ass… please… I’m begging you, don’t fuck me…”I'm reduced to this: stripped, exposed, bent over the ropes with my see-through trunks pulled down, pathetic shrunken cock on display, desperately begging you not to fuck my ass while the entire arena watches.

Dadicus

 Your begging is a wet, broken whisper against the roar of the crowd. Please… don’t fuck me… not like this… not in front of all of them… The words are pathetic. Beautiful. I lean close, my lips almost brushing your ear as you hang there, trembling over the ropes. My voice is low, a private venom just for you. “Where’s the confidence now?” I whisper, the words dripping with contempt. “Where’s all that big talk from the locker room? The way you rubbed your cock on me, showed me what you thought was an upper hand…” My hands leave your throat and go to my own waistband. I hook my thumbs in the elastic of my yellow trunks. With a slow, deliberate motion, I pull them down just enough to free my own cock. It springs out, fully hard, thick and girthy, a stark contrast to your shrunken, ruined state. I press myself against you from behind. I rub the length of my shaft against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel every thick inch. The broad, mushroom head teases at your entrance, a promise of what’s coming. Your whole body tenses.

Dadicus

 “Look at you now,” I snarl, my voice rising so the front rows can hear. “Begging. Crying. All that muscle, all that pride, and you’re just a hole waiting to be used.” I shift my hips... I don’t ask... I don’t ease in. I shove. My cockhead breaches you, pushing past the tight ring of muscle in one brutal, unforgiving thrust. A ragged, choked moan is torn from your throat, echoing around the arena... I don’t stop... I keep pushing, my girth stretching you wide, making space for myself inside you. “Now,” I grunt, my hands gripping the middle rope “let me show you what dominance really looks like.” I pull back almost all the way, then drive forward again, harder, deeper. The wet, filthy sound of the penetration mixes with the crowd’s frenzied cheers. “Let them all see how good you take it,” I growl, my voice rough with exertion and power. I set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a deep, claiming piston stroke. I’m not just fucking you; I’m putting on a show. Every time I bury myself to the hilt, your body jolts against the ropes. Every time I pull back, your ass clings to me. I’m marking you, in front of everyone, as mine.

 

Dadicus

 My pace picks up, becoming faster, more relentless. The slaps of my hips against your flesh are loud, rhythmic. Your earlier moans have subsided into broken, rhythmic sobs with each inward stroke, your hands white-knuckling the ropes for some semblance of anchor. I lean over your back, my chest pressing against your sweat-slick skin, my mouth by your ear. “Let them hear you, David, show them what you have become” I breathe harshly between thrusts. “This is what you are now. Remember this. Remember who owns you.” I continue to pound into you, the world narrowing to the heat of your body, the roar of the crowd, and the complete, utter destruction of the man you were an hour ago in that locker room.

Daddy_David

 The arena lights burn hot on my sweat-slick skin, every thrust from behind sending sharp jolts through my bound body. The ropes bite into my wrists and torso, holding me spread and helpless over the middle rope as you drive into me without mercy. My voice cracks again, raw and humiliated, barely audible over the deafening roar of the crowd: "F-fuck… please… ahh!" Another brutal shove forces the air from my lungs. Your thick cock stretches me impossibly wide, the burn intense, unrelenting. I can feel every veined inch sliding deep, claiming territory I never wanted to surrender. My own cock, once proud and hard in the locker room when I was taunting you, now hangs soft and useless between my legs, bouncing limply with each punishing stroke. The wet, obscene sounds of your hips slapping against my ass echo through the arena, amplified by the microphones. I try to clench, to fight it, but my body betrays me, muscles fluttering around your girth, sucking you in deeper despite the broken pleas spilling from my lips. "N-not… like this… not… in front of them…" I gasp, tears of shame and overwhelming sensation stinging my eyes. My head hangs low, blond hair plastered to my forehead, face flushed crimson under the spotlights. The front rows are on their feet, phones out, cheering and jeering as they watch the once-arrogant David being broken so publicly. You lean in closer, your chest hot against my back, and I feel your breath on my neck as you growl those words. My body jolts hard on the next deep thrust, a ragged, involuntary moan ripping from my throat, loud enough for the whole damn arena to hear. "Fuuuuck!"

Daddy_David

 My knuckles are bone-white on the ropes. Every piston of your hips forces another helpless sound out of me, turning my defiance into something pathetic and needy. The stretch, the fullness, the way you own every inch of me right here in the center of the ring… it’s destroying me. I hate how my voice trembles when I whisper back, barely loud enough for only you to catch between grunts:"…you’re too big… shit… slow down… I can’t… ahh! "But you don’t slow down. You speed up. Harder. Deeper. Claiming. My legs shake violently. A fresh wave of humiliated heat floods my face as I feel myself start to leak, pre-cum dripping in thin strings from my soft cock onto the mat below. The crowd notices. They roar louder. I’m breaking. Right here. In front of everyone. And part of me, deep down in the shattered pride, knows you’re right. This is what I am now. Your hole. Your show. Your victory. I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to swallow the next moan… but it rips free anyway as you slam home again, balls-deep, owning me completely.

Dadicus

 Your whole takes me in, tight and hot, clenching around me with every ragged gasp you try to smother. I can feel every flutter, every involuntary spasm as you struggle against the pleasure-pain of it. The wet slap of my hips against your ass echoes in the space between the crowd's roars, a filthy, rhythmic beat to our little show. "Fuck… that tight ass feels so good on my cock," I grunt into the sweaty collar of your neck, my voice thick with exertion and dark satisfaction. My hand comes down fast and hard on the firm, round curve of your ass with a loud CRACK!. The red imprint of my fingers marked instantly on your skin. I pick up the pace, no longer just pounding into you, but edging myself seeking my own pleasure. Each deep, grinding thrust molds you to me, stretching you wider, making your hole fit my girth... perfectly. The crowd is a deafening wall of sound... cheers, gasps, whistles... all celebrating your spectacle. The sounds are obscene, beautiful... the wet slap of my balls against your skin, your broken moans harmonizing with my own harsh grunts, the slick noise of my cock driving into you again and again. Sweat drips from my brow onto your back, my hairy chest plastered against your slick skin. I own this. I own you.

Dadicus

 I lean in further, my lips finding the salty, damp skin of your neck. I bite, then soothe it with a rough, open-mouthed kiss, marking you as surely as the handprint on your ass. My hips are a piston, a machine claiming its property. Then, my fingers knot in your damp, silver-streaked hair. I wrench your head back, pulling you upright against the rope. Your back arches painfully, your face turned up toward the blinding lights and the thousands of screaming faces. "LOOK AT HIM!" I roar to the crowd, my voice raw. "LOOK AT HOW HE TAKES IT!" Your face is a masterpiece of ruined pride. Tears streak through the sweat... your mouth is slack, lips swollen and parted around. Your eyes are screwed shut, then fly open... glassy, unfocused, utterly conquered. I hold you there, impaled on my cock, your body stretched and displayed, for what feels like an eternity. Letting every camera flash capture this final, humiliating tableau. The great Daddy David, reduced to a trembling, used hole, taking every inch of my cock as I start moving again, shallow, grinding thrusts now, my grip on your hair keeping your face exposed. "This is you now, were is all that confidence from the locker room" I snarl directly into your ear, my breath hot as I nibble your ear. "Remember this next time you get so cocky... Feel this cock as you show everyone what a little bitch you really are" And I drive home one last, deep, claiming thrust, burying myself to the hilt as the crowd's roar reaches a fever pitch.

Daddy_David

 With one brutal thrust, you bury yourself to the hilt inside me. My whole body jerks violently against the ropes as your thick cock stretches me open, slamming deep into my tight, unwilling hole. A raw, broken scream rips from my throat — high-pitched and humiliating, echoing over the roaring crowd. “AAAAAGHHHHH—! Oh god… please… it’s too big…!”My see-through white trunks are still bunched uselessly around my mid-thighs, leaving my pathetic, soft little cock and swollen, bruised balls dangling helplessly between my spread legs for everyone to laugh at. Every powerful thrust makes them swing shamefully, completely exposed. Your hips slap wetly and rhythmically against my bare ass — loud, filthy, impossible to ignore. My hole clenches and flutters desperately around your cock with every ragged breath I try to take, the tight heat gripping you even as I whimper and tremble. The intense stretch burns and fills me completely, turning my mind into mush from the overwhelming mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. “Fuck… that tight ass feels so good on my cock,” you grunt against the sweaty skin of my neck. Your hand comes down hard CRACK! across my firm ass. The sharp sting blooms into a bright red handprint that the whole arena can see. I cry out again, the sound melting into a pathetic, submissive whimper.

Daddy_David

 You pick up the pace, using me like a toy, claiming every inch of my defeated body for your pleasure. Sweat drips from your chest onto my back as you lean over me, your hairy torso pressed tight against my slick skin. Your mouth finds my neck, you bite down, then soothe the mark with a rough, open-mouthed kiss, marking me as yours in front of thousands. Then your fingers knot roughly in my damp, silver-streaked hair. You wrench my head back hard, forcing my spine to arch painfully over the ropes. My face is yanked upward toward the blinding lights and the sea of screaming, mocking faces. “LOOK AT HIM!” you roar to the crowd. “LOOK AT HOW HE TAKES IT!” My face is completely destroyed, tears streaming down my flushed cheeks, mouth hanging open and slack, lips swollen from your kiss. My gray eyes fly open wide and glassy, utterly broken and conquered as the cameras capture every second of my shame. You hold me there, impaled deep on your cock, my body stretched and displayed like a conquered prize while the crowd goes wild. Then you start moving again — shallow, grinding thrusts that keep me stuffed full, your tight grip on my hair keeping my humiliated face exposed for every flash. “This is you now,” you snarl hotly into my ear, nibbling at it. “Where’s all that confidence from the locker room? Remember this next time you get so cocky… Feel this cock as you show everyone what a little bitch you really are.” I can’t hold back anymore. My voice cracks into soft, desperate, submissive begs with every deep thrust: “Please… I’m begging you… be gentle… it hurts so much… please don’t fuck me so hard… I’ll be good… I promise… just don’t ruin me completely… please… I’m your bitch now… just please…”But my weak, trembling pleas only seem to make you drive deeper. You slam home one last, claiming thrust, burying yourself to the hilt as the crowd’s roar reaches a deafening, feverish peak.

Dadicus

 Your begs are music. They’re weak, trembling, and they feed something dark and hungry in me. "Please… be gentle… it hurts… I’m your bitch now…" Each fractured plea coming of you, makes my cock throb harder inside you. You think your submission will earn you mercy? It just makes me want to ruin you more. I stop the hard, driving pistons. Instead, I grind my hips in slow, deep, circular motions, swirling the thick head of my cock inside your stretched hole. It’s a different kind of invasion... deeper, more intimate, like I’m dancing in your guts, claiming space no one else has touched. “You feel that?” I growl into your ear, my voice dripping with mockery. “That’s me making myself at home. Getting comfortable.” I chuckle, the sound low and cruel. “Your ass is so fucking warm.” I can feel my own pre-cum starting to leak, mixing with the slickness inside you. With one final, grinding circle, I pull out slowly, making you feel every inch of my departure. The crowd groans in disappointed unison. But I’m not done. Not even close.

Dadicus

 In one fluid, brutal motion, my arm snakes around your neck from behind. I pull your head back sharply, arching your spine, and guide your face down toward my glistening, thick cock, which is now level with your mouth. “Open up,” I command, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Time to put that other hungry hole to work.” My other hand comes around and finds your nipple, pinching and twisting it hard... you gasp in shock and pain, your mouth falling open involuntarily. That’s all the invitation I need. I shove my cock past your lips, not stopping until the head bumps the back of your throat. Your sounds.. your gagging, your muffled cries... are instantly silenced, replaced by wet, choked gurgles. “Mmphff!” My hand leaves your nipple and slides down your slick, sweat-soaked torso, over your trembling abs, until it closes around your own soft, tiny, ruined cock. I give it a rough, possessive squeeze. “I think it’s time we showed your fans the truth,” I snarl, my hips beginning to move again, fucking your throat in a shallow, relentless rhythm. “Let’s show them how much you really want it.” My hand starts to jerk your cock in time with my thrusts into your mouth. It’s a sick, synchronized humiliation: every push into your throat is matched by a tug on your own flesh. I’m orchestrating your entire body, turning your pain and shame into a public performance. Your body convulses around me, caught between choking and a traitorous, humiliated twitch of pleasure from your own abused cock. I look out over the crowd, my face a mask of cold triumph, as I use both of your holes to prove, once and for all, who owns who and making your cock hard of pleasure.

 

Daddy_David

With one fluid, brutal motion, your arm snakes around my neck from behind. You yank my head back sharply, forcing my spine into a painful arch, then push my face down toward your glistening, thick cock, still slick from my ass and throbbing right in front of my lips. “Open up,” you command, voice hard and final. “Time to put that other hungry hole to work.” Your free hand slides around and finds my pink nipple. You pinch and twist it viciously. The sharp burst of pain makes me gasp, mouth opening wide in shock. That’s all the opening you need. You shove your cock straight past my lips and don’t stop until the fat head bumps the back of my throat. My eyes fly wide. Wet, choked gurgles replace any chance of begging as you fill my mouth completely.“Mmmphh—! Glk… glk…!”Your hand leaves my nipple and trails down my sweat-slick torso, over my trembling abs, until it wraps around my pathetic, soft little cock. The moment your fingers close around it, a sharp, agonizing jolt shoots through my crushed balls and bruised shaft. The touch is pure torture, every squeeze and stroke sends burning, nauseating pain radiating from my ruined package. My swollen nuts throb violently, and the tender, damaged skin screams with every rough tug. “I think it’s time we showed your fans the truth,” you snarl, hips already starting to rock in shallow, relentless thrusts, fucking my throat with steady rhythm. “Let’s show them how much you really want it.”

Daddy_David

 Your hand begins stroking my tiny, ruined cock in perfect time with every push into my mouth, a sick, synchronized humiliation. Every time you slide deeper between my lips, you tug and squeeze my soft flesh, forcing painful twitches and unwilling little swells despite how badly it hurts. My body convulses between choking on your cock and the sharp, humiliating spikes of pain-pleasure shooting through my abused groin. Tears pour down my flushed cheeks. My gray eyes are glassy and defeated, looking up at you desperately while wet, sloppy gagging sounds fill the air. My see-through white trunks are still bunched around my thighs, bare ass and dangling balls on full display as I hang helplessly over the ropes. I try to beg around your thick cock, the words coming out as broken, muffled whimpers and gurgles between gags:“P-please… mmph… it hurts… glk… my cock… so painful… don’t touch it… ahh! Please… I’m begging you… stop stroking… it’s too sore… your bitch can’t take it… please…”But my pathetic little cock keeps betraying me, twitching and slowly thickening in your painful grip no matter how much I whimper and sob. You’re orchestrating everything: throat-fucking me while you stroke my tender, damaged flesh in front of the roaring crowd, turning the once-dominant Daddy David into nothing but a drooling, choking, whimpering, pain-wracked toy.

Dadicus

 Your throat is a hot, tight vise around my cock. Your gagging sounds are wet and ragged, music to my ears, punctuated by those broken, muffled whimpers. "Please… it hurts… my cock… so painful… don’t touch it…" But my hand is wrapped around that very cock, isn’t it? Your soft, bruised, pathetic little flesh, twitching and thickening in my grip no matter how much you beg me to stop. The betrayal of your own body is the sweetest part. You can’t even control that. My breathing is coming in harsh, hitched grunts now. Every time I push deeper into your throat, your slick tongue presses against the underside of my shaft, and the back of your mouth constricts in a desperate, rhythmic swallow. Your struggles... the convulsions of your torso, the weak kicks of your legs... aren’t pushing me away. They’re pulling me in. The friction, the heat, the absolute violation of it is pushing me to the edge. I can feel my own pre-cum leaking, a hot pulse that spills onto your tongue, mixing with your spit. I feel it in the back of your throat. You have no choice but to swallow it. I hold back the cresting wave with sheer force of will. Not yet. It’s too soon.

Dadicus

 My hips keep up their relentless rhythm, fucking your mouth with shallow, brutal pistons. My hand on your cock strokes faster, twisting slightly on the upstroke, my thumb smearing the pre that’s beading at your own tip. It’s a cruel mimicry of pleasure, a torture that forces your damaged flesh to respond. “Yeah,” I grunt, my voice thick and ragged. “Keep sucking that fucking cock… MGHH… you like that, ahh? You fucking love it.” I increase the pace of my hand, a rough, demanding jackhammer motion that makes you coil around my length. I look from your tear-streaked, ruined face down to where my fist is working your swollen, reddening cock. It’s not soft anymore. It’s filling out, hardening in my grip despite the pain, despite your cries. I throw my head back and roar to the crowd, my voice raw with exertion and triumph. “LOOK! Look at his tiny cock getting bigger… FOR ME!”

Dadicus

 I lean in closer, my lips almost brushing your nipple as I continue to violate both your holes. “Your body knows who owns it,” I snarl, my thrusts into your throat becoming deeper, more possessive. “Your mouth is sucking me off like a whore. Your cock is getting hard in my hand. Even your broken, bruised balls are aching for me. MGHH!! You’re nothing but a set of holes for me to use, and your own fucking dick is agreeing with everyone watching." I slam home particularly deep, making you choke, my thumb rubbing rough circles over your leaking head. “Cum for me,” I command, my voice a dark, heated whisper. “Cum while I fuck your throat. Let everyone see what a good little bitch you are. Let them see you break completely.”

Daddy_David

 Your hips keep up their relentless rhythm, fucking my mouth with shallow, brutal pistons. My throat bulges slightly with every thrust, wet gagging sounds spilling out around your thick cock as I struggle to breathe. Your hand on my ruined cock strokes faster, twisting slightly on the upstroke, your thumb smearing the beads of pre that leak from my tip. It’s cruel  forcing my damaged flesh to respond even though every stroke feels like fire. My swollen, bruised balls throb violently with every rough tug, sending sharp, nauseating spikes of pain through my groin that make my whole body jerk and tremble against the ropes. You increase the pace of your hand, turning it into a rough, demanding jackhammer motion. The pain is unbearable  every twist and pull makes my tender, crushed cock scream, yet it keeps betraying me. It swells thicker in your fist, hardening despite how badly it hurts, reddening and pulsing with unwanted need. I look up at you through tear-streaked, glassy gray eyes, my face a complete ruin  mouth stretched obscenely around your cock, drool and pre running down my chin, cheeks flushed with shame. My muffled, broken begs keep vibrating around your shaft between desperate gags: The arena explodes with cheers and mocking laughter as they watch my pathetic cock swell and throb in your grip, fully hard now despite the agonizing pain radiating from my bruised balls and tender shaft. My see-through white trunks are still bunched around my thighs, everything on humiliating display while I hang helplessly over the ropes, throat-fucked and stroked into submission. My body convulses between choking on your cock and the sharp, humiliating mix of pain and forced pleasure. Tears pour freely down my face as another desperate, muffled whimper escapes around your length

Daddy_David

 You lean in closer, your lips almost brushing my nipple as you keep violating both my holes. “Your body knows who owns it,” you snarl, your thrusts into my throat growing deeper and more possessive. “Your mouth is sucking me off like a whore. Your cock is getting hard in my hand. Even your broken, bruised balls are aching for me. MGHH!! You’re nothing but a set of holes for me to use, and your own fucking dick is agreeing with everyone watching.” You slam home particularly deep, forcing your cock all the way into my throat until my nose presses against your pelvis. I choke violently, eyes rolling, throat convulsing around you in desperate, wet spasms. Your thumb rubs rough, merciless circles over my leaking, hypersensitive head. Every stroke sends burning agony through my bruised shaft and crushed balls, yet my cock keeps throbbing helplessly in your grip. “Cum for me,” you command in a dark, heated whisper. “Cum while I fuck your throat. Let everyone see what a good little bitch you are. Let them see you break completely.” I can’t fight it anymore. My whole body suddenly seizes up against the ropes. A muffled, broken scream rips from my stuffed throat around your cock:“MMMMMPHHHH!!!”

Daddy_David

 My ruined cock pulses weakly in your hand. The orgasm crashes through me like a wave that drains every last drop of strength from my body. My load is tiny and pathetic  just a few weak, watery, almost-clear spurts that dribble shamefully over your fingers and onto the canvas. My swollen, bruised balls tighten painfully with each feeble spurt, sending fresh nausea rolling through my gut. The moment it ends, all the fight leaves me. My powerful body goes completely limp. My legs give out, knees buckling as I hang helplessly from the ropes. My head lolls forward, silver-streaked hair falling over my sweat-drenched face. I can barely keep my eyes open. Every muscle feels heavy, spent, and utterly exhausted. The intense orgasm combined with all the earlier punishment has drained me completely, I’m nothing but a trembling, boneless wreck now. When you finally pull your cock from my throat with a wet pop, I slump forward over the ropes like a broken doll, coughing weakly, drool and pre-cum dripping from my swollen lips onto the mat. My gray eyes are glassy and unfocused, barely able to focus on anything. My voice comes out as a hoarse, trembling whisper, completely drained of any strength:“…please… no more… I came for you… like a pathetic little bitch… everything hurts… my cock… my balls… I’m so tired… so exhausted… your bitch is completely spent… please… don’t make me cum again… I can’t… I have nothing left…”I hang there limply, bare ass still pushed out toward you, see-through white trunks bunched uselessly around my thighs, my soft, spent cock twitching weakly with the last drops of my pathetic load, tears slowly rolling down my flushed cheeks. Daddy David is gone. All that remains is a completely exhausted, cum-drained mess waiting helplessly for whatever you decide to do next.

Dadicus

 I pull my cock from your throat with a wet, slick pop. It’s still hard, glistening with your spit and my own pre-cum. I look down at you, slumped over the ropes, a drooling, twitching mess. Your pathetic load is smeared on my fingers and the mat beneath you. A low, dark laugh rumbles in my chest. “Aww, my little bitch is spent,” I coo, my voice dripping with false sympathy as I wipe my hand on your thigh. “All tired out?” My expression hardens, the mockery vanishing into cold, brutal ownership. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a person. You’re a hole. My personal fuck doll. And I’m not done playing.”

Dadicus

 I reach down and yank your ruined white trunks the rest of the way down your legs, letting them tangle around your ankles. You’re completely bare now, every part of you exposed and vulnerable. I don’t give you a second to recover. I grab your arms, which hang limp at your sides, and wrench them up behind your back. I lock my hands together at the base of your neck, forcing your chest out and your back to arch... a perfect, inescapable Full Nelson. You offer no resistance. You’re just dead weight, a broken toy for me to position. Holding you firmly in the hold, I lift you up and guide myself with my hips. I press the head of my slick cock against your used entrance and, with a sharp grunt of effort, shove back inside. A weak, shuddering gasp is all you can muster.

Dadicus

 Once I’m buried to the hilt, I begin to move. But I’m not just thrusting. Using the leverage of the Full Nelson, I start to lift your entire body up and down on my cock. Your feet wrapping around my massive legs as I bounce you, using your own dead weight to fuck you deeper. Each time I pull you down, I sheathe myself completely, the sensation edging me closer and closer. “UGH!!... MGHHAA!!” My own groans are raw, ripped from my throat with each powerful lift and drop. “Let them SEE how good you take it! Let them see you bounce on my dick!” My body is a furnace, dripping sweat onto your back. My breath comes in hot, ragged gusts against your neck. The crowd is a deafening, frenzied blur. “YEAH!! Come on… take it!” I snarl, driving you down harder, faster on my cock.

 

Daddy_David

 I’m still hanging limply over the ropes, completely drained and trembling after that pathetic orgasm, when you reach down and yank my ruined white trunks the rest of the way down my legs. They tangle uselessly around my ankles, leaving me completely bare. My bare ass, swollen balls, and soft, spent little cock are now fully exposed to the roaring crowd with nothing left to hide behind. I have no strength to resist. You grab my limp arms and wrench them up behind my back, locking your hands together at the base of my neck in a tight Full Nelson. The hold forces my chest out and arches my back painfully. My silver-streaked head lolls forward weakly. I’m nothing but dead weight, a broken toy for you to position however you want. Holding me firmly in the Full Nelson, you lift me slightly and guide yourself with your hips. I feel the thick, slick head of your cock press against my used, still-twitching entrance.

Daddy_David

 With a sharp grunt of effort, you shove back inside me in one smooth, deep thrust. A weak, shuddering gasp is all I can manage  hoarse and broken: “Ahh… nngh…”My exhausted body jerks slightly in your hold as you stretch me open again. There’s barely any fight left in me. My legs tremble uselessly, toes barely touching the canvas, while my arms stay trapped high behind my back. My soft, spent cock dangles pathetically between my spread thighs, still sensitive and aching from the forced orgasm just moments ago. My body hangs helplessly in your Full Nelson  chest pushed out, back arched, ass impaled on your cock  nothing more than a limp, used, cum-drained toy for you to enjoy while the entire arena watches.

Daddy_David

 Once you're buried balls-deep inside me, you don’t even bother with normal thrusts. Instead, you use the Full Nelson to manhandle my exhausted body like a cheap fucktoy. You start lifting me up and dropping me down onto your thick cock, using my own limp weight to impale me over and over again. My feet helplessly hook around your powerful legs as you bounce me like a pathetic ragdoll. A loud, high-pitched, girlish squeal bursts out of me before I can stop it:“Eeeeeiiiighhh!!”The humiliating sound echoes through the arena, making the crowd explode with laughter and mockery. My soft, spent little cock and heavy, bruised balls flop and bounce obscenely between my spread thighs with every drop, completely exposed and flailing for everyone to see.

Daddy_David

 You’re grunting with effort, sweat pouring off your body onto my back as you use me like a living fleshlight, lifting me up until just the head remains inside, then slamming me back down until your cock disappears completely into my sore, stretched hole. Every brutal bounce forces another broken, squeaky whimper out of my throat. My silver-streaked head lolls forward helplessly, drool slipping from my open mouth as you bounce the once-proud Daddy David in front of thousands. “Look at you,” you growl against my ear between heavy breaths, “getting bounced on dick like a cheap whore. All that muscle and attitude… and now you’re just a whimpering little fuckdoll.” My face burns with shame. But you keep lifting and dropping me harder, my limp body jiggling with every thrust, my tiny soft cock flopping uselessly, my squeals growing higher and more desperate as the entire arena laughs at my total degradation.

Dadicus

 I keep fucking you, my hips pumping in a relentless, brutal rhythm. Your hole is slick and loose now, molded perfectly to my girth from the abuse. Each time I pull you down onto my cock, your limp body offers no resistance... just a warm, tight sheath for me to use. It’s a savage dance, and with every deep, claiming thrust, I feel my own climax coiling tighter in my gut. “Yeah, take that cock,” I grunt, my voice ragged with effort and pleasure. My sweat drips onto your back, mixing with yours. “You know you like it. You love getting fucked like this in front of all these people.” I punctuate the words by sinking my teeth into the muscle of your shoulder, then soothing the bite with a rough, open-mouthed kiss on the same spot. The crowd’s roar is a white noise of approval. The high, girlish squeals you made are gone, replaced by weak, choked gurgles as I bounce your broken body. I’m chasing my own end, using you to get there.

Dadicus

 “Let me feel you up, fill your tank,” I snarl, my control fraying. That’s when it happens. A hot, tight coil snaps deep in my balls. My thrusts become frantic, shallow, and desperate. “AGHHH!!... FUUUCCKK!” The roar tears from my throat, raw and unfiltered. I slam you down one final time, burying myself as deep as I can go, and let go. Thick, hot ropes of my cum pulse into you, jetting deep inside your well-used hole. I hold you there, impaled and trembling, as I empty myself completely, each spurt a physical claim of my victory. I keep the pressure on, grinding my hips to make sure you feel every last drop.

 

Dadicus

 Even after the last pulse fades, I don’t stop immediately. The overstimulation is electric, painful, and perfect. I fuck you through the sensitivity for a few more ragged thrusts, my cock still hard inside you, until my own legs threaten to buckle. With a final, guttural groan, I pull out. My wet, spent cock slides free with a lewd, slick sound. I release my grip on your arms, and you crumple forward onto the mat like a sack of meat, utterly spent. For a moment, I just stand over you, my chest heaving, watching as a thick trickle of my cum begins to seep out of you, dripping down the inside of your thigh and onto the canvas.

 

Dadicus

 I look down at my own glistening cock, then at your destroyed, trembling form. “Aww, my little bitch is all spent,” I say, my voice dripping with false pity that instantly curdles into cold contempt. I give your ass a rough, open-handed slap that makes your whole body jolt. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a person. You’re just a hole. My personal fuck doll. And I enjoyed every second of it.” I step back, leaving you there in a pool of our combined sweat and my cum. The crowd’s cheers wash over me. I put my leg on your neck and raise my arms as the referee slides in his hand slamming on the mat floor ONE... TWO...

 

Daddy_David

 With one final, savage drop, you slam me all the way down onto your cock and hold me there, impaled completely in the Full Nelson. Something snaps deep inside you. Your thrusts turn frantic and desperate as you roar right against my ear:“AGHHH!!... FUUUCCKK!”Thick, hot ropes of your cum explode deep into my sore, stretched hole, pulse after heavy pulse flooding me, claiming every inch inside. I can feel it all, the warmth spreading, the way my insides get filled and claimed by you. My exhausted body trembles violently in your grip, a weak, broken whimper leaking out of me with every spurt. You grind your hips in tight circles, making sure I feel every last drop, pushing your load even deeper while my used hole clenches around you pathetically. Even after you finish, you keep fucking me through the sensitivity, short, ragged thrusts that make me squeal softly from the overstimulation.

Daddy_David

 Finally, with a guttural groan, you pull out. Your spent cock slides free with a lewd, wet pop, and a thick trickle of your cum immediately starts leaking out of my gaping hole, running down the inside of my thigh and dripping onto the canvas in front of everyone. You release my arms. I crumple forward like a boneless sack of meat, collapsing face-down onto the mat in a trembling, cum-dripping heap. My legs are splayed uselessly, ass still slightly raised, your load slowly oozing out of me for the entire arena to see. My soft little cock is pressed against the canvas beneath me, twitching weakly. I lie there completely destroyed, sweat-soaked, cum-filled, and utterly spent. My silver-streaked hair is plastered to my face, tears mixing with drool on the mat. I can’t even lift my head. All I can do is lie there shaking, feeling your warm seed continue to trickle out of my well-fucked hole while the crowd cheers your total victory.

Daddy_David

 I lie there on the mat in a trembling, cum-dripping heap, face down, ass slightly raised, your thick load still leaking steadily from my well-fucked hole and running down my tender balls onto the canvas. My soft, spent little cock is pressed uselessly beneath me. Every muscle in my body feels heavy, drained, and completely finished. The roar of the crowd fades into a distant buzz. My vision blurs at the edges, graying out as the exhaustion finally crashes over me like a wave. My gray eyes flutter once, twice… then roll back. Everything goes black. I pass out on the mat, a sweaty, cum-leaking, thoroughly broken mess. My powerful body lies completely limp and motionless now, legs splayed, ass still twitching faintly with the last dribbles of your load seeping out of me for the entire arena to see. No more whimpers. No more begging. Just the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of my back as I lie there unconscious, utterly defeated and displayed like your conquered trophy. The crowd is going absolutely wild.

Daddy_David

 I’m completely out cold on the mat, face down in a pool of sweat and your thick cum, my bare ass still slightly raised, legs splayed, my soft little cock and bruised balls pressed against the canvas. A slow, steady trickle of your load continues to leak from my gaping, well-fucked hole. Your voice cuts through the haze even in unconsciousness, dripping with mocking pity that turns vicious. “Aww, my little bitch is all spent.” A rough, open-handed slap cracks across my bare ass  SMACK!  making my limp body jolt weakly even while I’m passed out. The red handprint blooms instantly on my already marked skin.

Daddy_David

You step back, leaving me lying there like discarded trash, naked, cum-dripping, and utterly destroyed. Then I feel the heavy weight of your boot pressing down on the back of my neck, pinning my unconscious face harder into the mat. You raise your arms in triumph as the referee drops down beside us. The crowd is roaring. ONE... The ref’s hand slams the mat. TWO... My limp body doesn’t even twitch. I’m still completely passed out, silver-streaked hair matted with sweat, cum leaking down my thigh, every inch of the once-proud Daddy David reduced to a broken, cum-filled fuck doll under your boot. The arena is on its feet, chanting and cheering your victory as the ref’s hand comes down for the final count. THREE! The bell rings. The match is over. You stand tall over my motionless, defeated form, boot still planted firmly on my neck, while the crowd chants your name and cameras flash endlessly, capturing the image of Daddy David lying unconscious and leaking your cum on the canvas. I stay completely out, lost in darkness, nothing left but a trembling, used shell of what I used to be.

Dadicus

 The bell rings. a wave of cheers and boos crashes over me. My arms are raised, my chest heaving. My boot is planted on your neck, grinding your unconscious face into the mat. The ref’s hand slaps the canvas for the third time, but I don’t move. I let the moment hang, let every camera drink in the image: me, the victor, standing tall; you, the once-proud Daddy David, reduced to a broken, cum-leaking doll under my heel. The chanting of my name louder DADICUS.... DADICUS!... I savor it. Then I bend down. I grab a fistful of your silver-streaked, sweat-matted hair and yank your head up off the canvas. Your face is slack, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. I turn your limp head toward the nearest hard cam, holding you there like a trophy. “What’s wrong, champ?” I shout, my voice cutting through the noise. I give your cheek a rough pat, making your head loll. “Not so tough now, are you?”

 

Dadicus

 My hand then drifts down your sweat-slicked abs... I hook my fingers into the cleft of your cheeks and spread them wide, turning your body slightly to give the crowd and the cameras... a perfect, obscene view. “LOOK!” I roar, pointing with my other hand. “TAKE A GOOD LOOK AT THE HOLE I OWN!” The arena erupts in a mix of shock, laughter, and deafening cheers. I keep you exposed for a long, brutal moment, ensuring every phone and camera gets the shot: your used, cum-dripping ass, the ultimate symbol of your defeat. Satisfied, I slide my hands under your arms. With a grunt, I haul your dead weight up and drag you toward the ropes. I duck under the bottom rope, pulling you through after me onto the ringside floor. I lift your limp arms and hook them over the bottom rope... then I grab your legs, bending them back and draping your calves over the edge of the apron. The position is vulnerable, degrading... a broken puppet strung up for display.

Dadicus

 I step back, wiping my hands on my thighs as I survey my handiwork. There you are. Suspended between the ring and the floor. A broken body for the world to see. Your head hangs forward. Your bruised, shrunken cock and battered balls are on full display for the front row. Cum slowly leaks from your used hole onto the concrete below. The crowd surges toward the barricade, phones held high, mocking, shouting, taking pictures of the once-great Daddy David in his final, humiliated state. I lean in close to your ear, though you can’t hear me. “Enjoy the spotlight, bitch,” I whisper. “It’s the last one you’ll ever get.” I turn my back on you, raising my arms once more to the chanting crowd.

Dadicus

 The crowd’s cheers are still ringing in my ears, the taste of absolute victory still hot in my mouth, as I turn to walk up the ramp. The roar is mine. Then he steps out. The owner. Silhouetted in the stage lights, a shit-eating grin on his face. He blocks my path, clapping slowly, sarcastically. “Looked like you had a great fight there, Dadicus,” he chuckles, his voice dripping with smug amusement. He looks past me, down at your broken body splayed on the apron, then back at me. “And as a reward from me to you… Daddy David will be your new tag team partner.” The words don’t compute at first. They hit my ears like static. Then they detonate. Partner? With him? The man I just publicly dismantled, fucked, and left as a drooling wreck for the crowd to mock? Red floods my vision. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

Dadicus

 “Also… if you lose your next tag match…” He pauses, letting the threat hang. “Say goodbye to your title shot.” He gives me a final, infuriating chuckle, pats my shoulder like I’m a dog, and vanishes back into the shadows of the stage, leaving me standing there seething. The cheers of the crowd suddenly feel hollow. My title match… my future… now chained to the broken piece of meat I just destroyed. I stand there for a long moment, breathing hard, the red haze slowly receding into a cold, calculating rage. I look back down the ramp. You’re still there, hooked on the ropes, a public spectacle. A problem. My problem now. With a final, disgusted snarl, I stomp back down the ramp. The crowd’s confusion turns back to cheers as I approach. I don’t acknowledge them. My eyes are locked on you.

Dadicus

 I reach the ringside area. I unhook your limp arms and legs from the ropes. You slump into a heap on the floor. I bend down, get a shoulder and heave you up. Your dead weight settles across my shoulders... a grotesque trophy, a humiliating burden. I stand, adjusting your weight, and begin the long walk back up the ramp. The crowd parts, cheering, reaching out. As I walk, the adrenaline finally crashes, leaving behind only a deep, weary anger. I lean my head slightly toward your ear, my voice a low, venomous growl meant only for your unconscious form. “You better not fuck this up for me,” I hiss, my grip tightening on your legs. “You better not fuck me over on my title match. You hear me? You’re mine now... In every way... And you will do what I say.” I carry you up the ramp, through the curtain, and into the darkness of the backstage area. The roar of the crowd fades behind us, replaced by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the echoing sound of my own footsteps. The match is over. The battle is won. But the war, it seems, has just taken a very fucked-up turn.

~THE END ~

Published: 2026-05-18, viewed 137 times.