Wrestling Club Paradise

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

Kad Royce

No one has ever asked me why I left my country to come to Dubai. They don’t ask me the question anymore. I believe that I am part of the landscape of this city in the same way as the Burj Khalifa. I didn’t say that I had so many visitors who penetrated me, but I believe, without boasting, that I could be in the TripAdvisor of Dubai’s hot places.

But I am not from here. I am a stranger. Or rather an exile. I believe it’s time that everyone knows it. I left my country of origin, or more precisely I fled it. I did not grow up here. My country of origin... my family of origin... I want to forget them... I don’t want to talk about it... It may seem violent.... but it’s nothing compared to what I experienced.... Or rather compared to what a guy put me through....

Yes, a guy, he doesn’t even deserve the name of a man. This asshole, who raised me, says to himself my father. I only see in him a violent guy who raised me to be rough and martyred. As soon as I could leave him, I fled. I was young and I left. I wasn’t the coach, the fighter that I was.... I was a scrawny, frail guy... He made me notice it enough when I was young.

With his 300 lbs. of muscle, his hours spent in training, his numerous victories in more or less illegal fights, he was the opposite of what I was. And today, even if I hate him, even if I no longer have contact with him, I do as he does. I don’t have his weight, but I spend my days at the gym. Me too, like him, I fight in underground tournaments. In fact, I realize that even if I want to run away from him, I am only imitating him.

Daddy

I have been following your progress ever since you have started your fighting career. What you don’t know is that I have always known where and how you are. My network is much more extensive that you can even fathom. As your reputation grows, so is my curiosity. And at this moment, I believe it is time for us to meet. So, I take my private jet and fly to Dubai to meet my son all grown up.

Kad Royce

The day ends. I still feel in my arms the stubborn fatigue of hours spent at the gym - the women too rich who seek to sculpt their boredom, the young men who look at me as if they were expecting from me a permission to exist, and the training sessions that empty me more than they carry me. And then, all of a sudden, everything goes quiet.

I am alone on the roof, in the pool overlooking the city like a mirage. Dubai stretches under me, warm, motionless, almost unreal. The water carries me, the sky gently burns my skin. A plane passes, slow, sure of itself, leaving behind it a white trace that dissolves into the azure. Every time I see these lines, something cracks inside me. I can’t help it. It’s as if they were bringing me back there, to what I fled, to what I still carry despite myself.

A shiver passes through me—one of those that does not come from the cold, but from a memory that insists. As if my father, somewhere, was calling me back to him. I dip my head under the water, hoping that the liquid silence will erase everything. I swim, again and again, to blur the thoughts, to dissolve this face that always returns. But nothing works. He comes back up, stubborn, like a shadow that refuses to dissipate. Why does he never leave me.

Daddy

Suddenly your sanctuary is invaded by multiple men, all showing impressive muscle underneath their suit. You look puzzled and want to protect your own place your own domain your own palace. You get out of the pool dripping wet with your tight speedo. You do your best trying to intimidate these muscle men but failing miserably.

You soon try to pick a fight with one of them, but you stop when you see me standing among them. The only man wearing the very same speedo that you are wearing. You know I must have gotten it from your closet. “What do you think? Son. Not bad for your old man, huh?” I laugh.

Kad Royce

When I raise my head to catch my breath, something has changed. The space — my space—is no longer empty. Silhouettes stand out in front of me, massive, almost unreal in the evening light. Bodies shaped like statues, and me, suddenly, reduced to a fragile rod, a pencil line in a painting too saturated. I leave the water too quickly, almost stumbling.

No. They cannot take that from me. Not this place that I earned from work, fatigue, loneliness. Not this refuge that I built like one builds a skin. I step forward, ready to throw myself against them despite the absurdity of the gesture. I don’t think. I don’t wonder how they got past the controls, or why they’re here, or what they want from me. I think only of this deaf, animal fear, the one that squeezes the throat when something threatens what we believed in ourselves.

And then I see him. Behind the others, a mass. A shirtless, a jersey identical to mine, like a bad joke of fate. I look up, first attracted despite myself by the raw beauty of his body—this beauty that strikes before we can even defend ourselves against it. Then my gaze reaches his face. And everything freezes. I petrify myself, literally, as if his gaze had the power to turn me into stone.

No. Not him. Not here. Not now. I’m not moving anymore. I hardly breathe anymore. The world shrinks around his figure. And when his voice falls, this voice that has left so many invisible scars, this voice that still carries the shadow of what I fled, I feel something opening up under my feet. A chasm. A familiar hell. And I understand that the past, sometimes, is not content to return. He appears. He invades. He is demanding.

Daddy

I get closer to you one step at a time. And your eyes can’t escape me with my magnificent body showing off all the hard works that I have endured all these years. Each step flexes different parts of my body showing off each individual muscle with this perfect natural golden light in this Dubai sunset. Within merely a few inches from you, I stop “How is my boy doing all these years away from your daddy?” In a low and authoritative voice.

Kad Royce

You move forward, centimeter after centimeter, and I feel the air change around you. Your presence takes up all the space, like a shadow that stretches, like a wall that approaches. You are even more massive than in my memories—more sculpted, denser, as if the years had strengthened you instead of wearing you down

 I feel tiny, reduced to what I once was, a child waiting for someone to fall on him. Your voice falls, heavy, authoritative, with this inflection that sends me back years. It crosses my body like an ancient reflex, an order etched in the skin. For a moment, I waver. I feel the old fear coming back, the one that made me look down, hold my breath, disappear into a corner of myself. I shake my head.

No… I refuse to fall into that again. I breathe. I straighten my neck. I feel my shoulders reposition, as if I were taking back possession of my own body. And when I raise my eyes towards you, it’s no longer the child who is looking. It’s the man.

« Daddy...» My voice trembles a little, but it holds. "I don’t see anyone in front of me with that name." The words come out like a release, like a clean break. They burn my throat, but they free me. You, you stay there, massive, motionless, and for a second, I think I see something flickering in your gaze — a glare, a surprise, maybe even a flaw. Or maybe it’s just me, finally standing facing you.

Daddy

Your response does bring a rare sense of surprise. I may even have grin in affirmation of how much you have grown. You are definitely not the little boy that has left me years ago. I get even closer literally towering over you with my arms around you. “Son, welcome home”.

Kad Royce

You look at me with a surprise that I can’t decipher. Is it joy, or simply another one of those shadows that you know so well how to project on me? I don’t know anymore. You made me believe so often that you loved me, that you saw me, just before sending me back into the dust. And everything goes back up. Memories, gestures, illusions. This way you had to reach out to me to better take it away from me afterwards.

I remember so vividly that evening—I was six — when you held me close, a rare gesture, almost tender, before pushing me back outside, in the pouring rain, as if the storm could punish me for you. I believed it, though. To your kindness. At your change. I needed it. And today again, when you come near me, something in me refolds, turns back, becomes that little boy who hopes, who waits, who wants to believe that this time will be different.

A part of me lets itself be made, lets itself be guided, as if it recognized an ancient path. But behind this docility, there is another thought, harder, more lucid: the one who murmurs that you are going to start again. That you will find a way to belittle me, to break me, as you always did. I vacillate between these two forces - the child who still hopes, and the adult who knows. And in this fragile space, I feel the fear return, familiar, almost docile too.

Daddy

You can’t resist your daddy. Your mind is struggling to believe what you are seeing is real or imagination. But your body leans forward to my embrace. You find comfort in my arms, in my magnificent muscles, and in my familiar musky scent that you have been longing all your life. I sooth over your back as if you are a new born baby needing his father to comfort him. The skin to skin contact is letting you feel your daddy’s body heat warming you up from the cold water from the pool. “Shu…shu…. Relax. Daddy is here”. In a calm soothing low voice.

Kad Royce

When your arms close on my shoulders, when your chest touches mine, a shiver passes through me, clear, almost brutal. I don’t know what wins me — fear, disgust, a form of filial love, or something indefinable that mixes all this in the same vertigo.

You hold me like in the old days, like in those rare moments when you knew how to be gentle, and a part of me would like to surrender to it. But I know the rest. I know how these gestures end up, always, turning against me.

And yet I remain immobile, nailed in this embrace that takes me back years. I might get out. My body knows it, so do my reflexes. But I don’t have the will. I want to believe—once again, maybe for the last — that you have changed. That this contact is not a prelude to humiliation, but an awkward attempt to repair what has been broken.

I close my eyes. I hold my breath. I find myself hoping that, this time, I am not mistaken. That you are finally going to give me what I have been waiting for all my life, or at least the whole part I remember: a simple gesture, a true gesture, a gesture that would resemble father’s love.

Daddy

I can see you are still struggling to accept your daddy. I tighten my embrace just a little more bring you even closer. Then, I kiss your forehead surprising even you. I then take your hand with mine to lead you inside the penthouse. "Its getting cold now. Let's get inside and warm you up. It is just like the good old time when you are so young and innocent as if there is no hidden agenda behind. It is just simply a bonding time between a father and his son”.

We pass through the guards as if they do not exist. They didn't even flinch only with their gazes remain on us. Meanwhile, every move, every reaction and even veins popping on you are all being observed and evaluated by me. I need to assess; I need to know if you are ready.

Kad Royce

You are there in front of me. I don’t know if it’s a dream or a nightmare. I smell that smell... your smell. It hasn’t changed since my mother left this fucking house. You "took care" of me for so long... I only hope one thing is that you have changed.

Then, suddenly, you place this kiss on my forehead. Damn, how a simple paternal kiss can transform me. You send me back to my childhood with this kiss and I don’t know if I love you for it or if I hate you. The day begins to disappear and the nights in Dubai are cool. You suggest that I return and once again my feelings are mixed.

Should I be proud to show you my success? I live in a luxurious place! But will you congratulate me for this and, once again, would I not be up to the task. I remember my first wrestling match. You were there watching me during my first defeat. You didn’t say a word when we returned. I disappointed you too much. I don’t want that to happen anymore.

Daddy

I can tell you are waging a war within yourself. Too many conflicting thoughts try to win over each other inside your still much innocent mind. I look around and am proud of what you have made out for yourself out here in a foreign county. But only if you know what kind of empire our family controls. I notice a wrestling mat on the far end, and an idea appear.

My arms wrap around your thighs and pick you up like so many times when you were a boy. Your legs spread around my waist and arms around my neck. with half a head over me, you look down in complete confusion.

But before you sort things out, I rush towards the mat and jump in the air with us still embracing each other. A loud thud echoes the entire penthouse. You moan to the crash sandwiched between the mat and me. This is what I know I can do to help you to get out of this funk same as what my father did to me long long time ago. An extensive physical activity always clear the mind. I chuckle at that thought. Determination shows up thought my eyes. I need to know if you are still a boy or grown to be a man.

Kad Royce

When your arms suddenly close around my thighs, I remain for a moment without breath, as if time were folding in on itself. I don’t understand right away what is happening. I only feel my body leaving the ground, this brutal lightness, almost absurd, and the momentum of your gesture that takes me back to an age when I didn’t touch the ground yet.

I find myself hoisted against you, my legs closing by reflex, my arms seeking support around your neck. It is an ancient movement, buried, a child’s gesture that no longer belongs to me. And yet it comes back, intact, as if you had kept it somewhere within yourself, ready to bring it out when I least expected it.

I look at you from above, barely a few inches, but enough to feel the confusion running through me. Why now? Why this gesture, the one that mixes tenderness, authority, and something even more troubled—the memory of a bond that I never knew how to name? Before I can understand, you get moving.

Your body stretches, accelerates, and we toggle together towards the mat. The shock echoes through the entire apartment, a thud that crosses me from side to side. I feel the air emptying from my lungs, surprise cutting off my voice, and beneath you, the obvious: you want to tell me something. Not with words — you have never been able to do—but with this raw, physical language, the one you have always preferred.

I remain motionless for a moment, my breath running low, my heart beating too fast. And in this chaos, a thought imposes itself, clear, almost painful: you no longer see me as a child. Or rather, you want to check if I still am

So, I straighten up, slowly, despite the pain that pulsates in my back. I place my eyes in yours. I feel fear, yes, but also a form of resolution that surprises me myself. You want a challenge. You want to know who I have become. Very well. I get up. I face you. And for the first time, I feel that it’s me who chooses to stay in this fight.

Daddy

I watch you standing up. I am proud only a father know best. The fact that you are standing in front of me ready to fight is a huge step forward from the last time I saw you. To award such bravery, I make my first move. I go for your legs with a quick dash forward before you get yourself steady.

Kad Royce

You rush towards my legs even before I have regained true balance. I see your movement too late to anticipate it, but early enough to feel in me this old panic — that of the child surprised, seized, overthrown without understanding. A flash of the past, a gesture that you have already had, in the past, when you wanted to «teach me something». But this time, something in me is not giving in. I feel the surprise, yes, but it no longer paralyzes me. She wakes me up.

Your shoulder hits my thighs and, in this shock, my reflexes regain the upper hand. The BJJ, these years learning to breathe in constraint, to transform falling into support, fear into leverage. I let your momentum half lift me, then I crochet your shoulder with my forearm, seeking your center of gravity as one seeks a truth too long avoided. I feel your weight, your strength, your determination—this way you want to test me, measure me, as if you could read in me what I have become.

I pivot slightly, enough to shift your attack, enough so that your grip is no longer total. My knee is sliding inward, seeking space, the rift, the point where your body ceases to be a threat and becomes a grasp. I am not fighting only against you. I fight against what you represent, against what you left in me.

And yet, in this precise, controlled, almost calm movement, I feel a new certainty: I am no longer the child you could knock over with a gesture. I raise my head. I’m watching you. And in that look, there is something you may have never seen about me: the desire to respond to you, to face you, to no longer undergo. You want to know if I am a man. So watch carefully. I am in the process of showing you it.

Daddy

I grin when you show me your skill easily escape my attack. Your forearms trap my shoulder and gliding through my muscle physique as if enjoying my body. I even let out a satisfying moan when my boy have me chokehold. "Show me what you got SON" I dare you.

Kad Royce

When you throw me this challenge, something tightens in me—an ancient, familiar knot that mixes fear with the desire to finally respond to you. I still feel the trace of your missed attack, the warmth of your shoulder that I have deviated, and your gaze that shines with a pride that I haven’t seen often. It troubles me more than I want to admit.

I take a slow breath. I feel my feet searching for the ground, really, as if I had to anchor myself there in order not to fall back into the child I was. My hands rise, almost of themselves, finding the position you had once taught me—that precise gesture, that compact guard, that invisible triangle between the elbows and the chest that protects more than a body.

I turn around you, one step at a time, my muscles still tense from the impact. I look at you, your massive body, your way of holding yourself, that assurance that has always crushed me. But today, something has changed: I no longer feel crushed. I feel... present. I remember a shot you showed me, one evening when you had had the rare patience—to explain to me, to correct my gestures, to place your hand on my shoulder to show me the right angle.

I review the scene as if it were through a glass pane. I remember your voice, the way you say: "Don’t force. Find balance." So I approach. I feint left, just enough to pull your weight in the wrong direction. Then I slide my arm under yours, seeking your center, that point where your body ceases to be a mountain and becomes a movement. I feel the resistance, yours, solid, almost reassuring.

And I feel mine, new, calmer than I would have thought. I’m not trying to overthrow you. I seek to unsettle you—just enough to show you that I am no longer the one you could manipulate with a gesture. Just enough for you to understand that I am here, really here, facing you.

And in this brief contact, in this controlled tension, I feel something unraveling within me. A simple, almost painful truth: I no longer fight to please you. I fight to exist.

Daddy

Before I know, your move has unsettled me losing my own balance. I notice all the techniques that you have employed and they belong to our family. My eyes brighten but I am not going to let you have any advantage with my legs wraps around your waist to steady myself.

It is almost ironic as the situation would have be reversed with you clinging on to me while I tried to overthrow you. But now you are the one taking action, and I am the one trying to defense myself from my own blood.

Kad Royce

When I feel your legs closing to regain your balance, a dizziness crosses me. Not the one of fear—another, older, deeper. That of understanding that, for the first time, it is you who loses support, you who seeks to hold back from me, you who must defend yourself. I feel your weight shifting, your center moving at a glance, just enough for me to understand that I have an opening.

A part of me would like to step back, break contact, find a space where I could breathe. But another — calmer, more lucid—knows that it’s now that everything is at stake. I plant my feet in the ground, as if I had to root myself there. I feel my hips pivot, my chest tense, my hands instinctively seeking a grip on your arm, your flank, any point where I could guide your fall or cushion mine. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to hold on. To stay standing. To not give up anymore.

And in this gesture, in this new resistance, a thought strikes me—brutal, luminous: I am holding you back. You. My father. I feel your breath, heavy, focused. I feel your strength, intact, but less overwhelming than before. Or maybe it’s me who has changed. I could accompany you in your fall, train you with me, transform your imbalance into movement. I could also free myself, regain my stability, face you differently.

The two options present themselves to me as two paths that I have never had the right to choose. And in this brief suspended moment, I understand something that I had never dared to formulate: I am no longer the one who endures. I am no longer the one you knock down. I am the one who answers you. I tighten my grip, just enough to make you feel that I won’t let go. Not this time. Not now. And in my mind, a sentence forms, simple, naked, almost painful: I got you. Finally.

Daddy

I am planning my next move as you are doing the same. My legs wraps around you finding the lost balance once again and it is rare for me to be in such bad position so soon. It speaks volume as to how much you have growth in these years without me. And I choke a little at the thought of how much I have missed your growth as a man.

And in this moment you have found a way to throw me to the mat and cause me harm and yet I hear “I got you” in my son’s voice which somehow bring me comfort, and my body seems to ease the tension too just simply letting you in complete control of my downfall. Your daddy’s downfall.

But I am not going to let you win so easily. The test is still needed to be completed. As soon as my back meets the mat, I turn my body around with my legs wraps around your waist this time keep our distance close extremely close to avoid any serious attack and allow me to have time to plan my next move. I even have my arms around your neck to bring your head next to mine.

Every part of my body is grinding with yours. I can even feel our nipples are smashing with each other’s. And I absentmindedly moan out knowing it is my son making my guard down so much.

Kad Royce

When you close your legs around my waist, I immediately understand that I fell into your trap. You haven’t lost your body science, nor this way of turning a second of opening into a lock. Your strength still surprises me—not because it is overwhelming, but because it is mastered, composed, almost tranquil. You never had to force yourself to hold me. It’s that, perhaps, that always impresses me.

Your weight is replacing itself; your chest is pressing against mine, and I feel the pressure rising, methodical, calculated. You hold me close to you, too close for me to be able to create the space I need. It’s a trap, a real one, built in a second, as if you had waited for this moment to remind me that you still know how to neutralize me.

But something has changed. I don’t freeze anymore. I no longer get lost in this feeling of being crushed by you. I feel your strength, yes—but I also feel mine, more stable, more rooted, as if the years away from you had sculpted another body, another spirit.

I place my forearms against your chest, I look for an angle, a breath of space. I feel your grip, solid, almost reassuring, but I also feel that it is no longer absolute. I can resist it. I can answer it. So, I do what I learned, which I repeated hundreds of times on other carpets, far from you: I lower my center of gravity, plant my knees in the ground, turn my hips to break the line of your control. A simple movement, almost discreet, but which is enough to loosen your vise.

I slide one hand under your arm, the other against your hip, and I begin to create a narrow, fragile, but real passage. I feel your breath against my temple, your resistance, your willingness to keep me there. But I also feel mine, calmer, more determined. I push. I pivot. I extract myself inch by inch, as if coming out of a shadow that is too long.

And in this movement, in this silent struggle, a thought crosses me, clear, almost painful: I am no longer a child. I can answer you. I can stand up to you. So I try the counterattack: I pass my arm under your thigh, I hook your knee, and I shift my weight forward to open your guard. A BJJ gesture, clean, precise. A gesture of adulthood.

Daddy

I am in an awkward position. Your arm is under my thigh making me vulnerable as my feet are spread so far apart. My bulge is completely exposed. And it is constantly being assaulted by your own bulge. I try to break your hold as I force my leg down on your arm. It only makes it worse for me and your bulge rubbing against mine own with even more intensity. We are only wearing a tight speedo for goodness sake.

My bulge is undeniably growing along with my newfound love for my baby boy, now a fully grown man on top of me exerting his masculinity over this aging body of mine. It is no longer clear to me that I want to break free from your hold or if I am trying to get us both emotionally closer in a lightning speed way, I find myself drawing blank in my mind with no real escape plan.

I only keep on moving my thigh back and forth causing our bulges to grind up and down, back and forth again and again making my breathing heavier and heavier until i moan out loud. I am the first to moan out loud in the battle signaling I am the receiving ends. My face flushes in crimson red in no time.

Kad Royce

I feel your body under mine, your strength that still seeks to stretch itself, to resist, but that wavers. And something moves in me slowly, like a plate sliding under another. I am no longer your little boy. I am no longer the one who kept quiet, who accepted, who waited for it to pass. I am a man now, and it is you who discovers it in the pressure of my arms, in the way I hold you on the ground.

For years, I dreamed of this moment. Not to hurt yourself—no. But to hold you, finally. To prove to you that I could face you. That I could knock you over. That I could, for once, be the one to decide. And yet, now that I am here, I no longer feel the anger that was inside me. Plus that dull rage that burned me when you came back into my life.

Something calmed down, as if the struggle had untied an overly tight thread. I feel your bulge against mine and suddenly I realize that I am totally stiff since the beginning of our fight. The humidity in our crotch destabilizes me without I being able to understand what is happening.

You are agitating yourself, looking for a way out, pushing, pulling, trying to crush my arm as if you could still tear me from you by brute force. But no. Not this time. I feel the moment. I recognize him. This tiny flip where your body hesitates, where your balance unravels. Then I pivot, pass my leg over your shoulder, lock.

And I see your eyes opening a little bigger. You understand. You realize. I pull your arm, I tilt my hips, and suddenly, your whole body freezes. You are caught. Net. Clean. Without unnecessary violence. Just the truth of a gesture that is accomplished. And me, above you, I blow, almost softly, almost as a matter of course: — There you go. There, dad... we’ll have to type.

Daddy

I tap. I have lost to my son in such a clean way. No dispute. My ego is bruised and I am also beaming with pride. My boy is a man now.

Kad Royce

I feel your hand hitting against my shoulder. The first time, I don’t think I understand what’s happening. I never imagined that ... Seeing my father who mistreated me so much, who dominated me physically and mentally, acknowledging that I beat him is something I did not imagine. I need to feel it a second time, then a third time before I understand that I have dominated you.

I gently let go of the arm without really understanding what is happening. I tremble a little and I think I don’t know why. Is it the intoxication of victory? Is it a form of shame to have beaten one’s father? Is it something else? I take a look at my trunks then on yours! What if it were something else? Something unmentionable? Something that all societies have so far forbidden.

I stare at you trying to see if it’s really what I think. I seek to find in your gaze the permission to do what I dream of doing. I am now convinced of it and I clearly feel it in my lower belly.

Daddy

I meet your burning gaze with my own equally fired up eyes. My thick cock is half exposed and stiffened with precum already leaking. I remain on my knees as if waiting on your next move. “You are the head of our family now” I quietly state. Then the muscle men that we have completed forgotten suddenly roar in unison “Kad’s will be done”. As they begin to move towards us. And slowly takin go off their clothes revealing bodies that are perfectly sculpted like the Greek marble sculpture. All naked standing around is.

“Clothes off in the present of Master Kad ”. They keep on repeating it and I am just to dumbfounded to comprehend the fact that I am no longer the head of the family and I am therefore no longer their master. “May…May I take… my speedo.. off. Master … Kad?” I humbly ask with my head hanging low. You nod and I take my speedo off without standing up and fold it neatly moving on my knees until I am in front of you and bow 3 times. Before I am dare to look up again with my now raging hard on.

Kad Royce

Your gaze tells me that something has changed between us and that you now know what your place is. Your bodyguards, these men who have totally devoted themselves, are demonstrating this change of allegiance. They are no longer your men. They are mine.

When you call me 'Master', when you ask me for permission to undress, I know that nothing will be like before. You are naked. Your body is always magnificent despite the age. I can’t help but remember the wonder I had when I was little and saw you come out of the shower naked. You bow down before me showing that the family has changed clans, that I am the new boss.

I stood up while you were bowing and when you lift your chest, I can only shiver seeing that your face is at the level of my bulge. I breathe a great inhalation to regain my composure because now I know what my place is and what yours is. I place my hand on your shoulder to prevent you from getting up.

My gestures are calm, posed but full of authority. I stare at you like when you looked at me before correcting me when I was little. I say calmly, almost methodically, in an icy and metallic voice "Who is your Daddy, Dad?"

Daddy

I choke at what you have just said. I have been the head of the family for so long and no one has ever challenged me until now. My mouth trembles knowing I must reply. The guard once again roar “Answer the Master”. Repeatedly. Now I am feeling what everyone had felt for all these long years. Under pressure I have never experienced before “You are my daddy, …..son”. And my cock twists at the affirmation of your new position. Even a drop of precum appears on my dick head with a small moan escape my lips.

The situation doesn’t escape me. I am physically bigger and weighting more than an 100 lbs. over my own son. Yet I am the one who is on my knees facing my very own son’s bulge raging within the tight speedo ready to burst to conquer.

And I know I will be the first person he conquer and claim. And his bulge is so close I can feel the heat coming off of it. Maybe subconsciously I have already accepted the change cause my tongue seems to be wetting my lips.

Kad Royce

I can’t see myself giving orders but I can understand the doubt in which you are. You take time to comply; too much time and the guard orders you to do it in a threatening tone. I say nothing. I’m just looking at you. My hand on your shoulder freezes a little firmer than before.

You know well that I don’t need to say anything for you to be mine. You know well this feeling of being able to dominate a man without having a word. But for me it is new. I am seized with a kind of intoxication, a feeling of power. I am starting to understand a little how and why you behaved like that with me. I see your dick, much larger than mine, stiff as a rod and already wet.

I understand this form of desire that you cannot express. I place my free hand on your head to push it towards my bulge. I want you to understand what my new place is and therefore what yours is "You will see what it feels like to have a real Daddy, Dad" I tell you between my teeth.

Daddy

The guards is now chanting "Serve your Master, Serve your daddy". It is hypnotizing. I stick my tongue out and starting to lick my own son's bulge. Slowly at first, my first time so close to another man's bulge. But soon with the help of the chanting, I am fully sucking on your bulge breathing in heavily of your musky scent.

Each breath of your musk seems to make it easier to submit, easier to suck on my own son's bulge, easier to get myself excited deriving pleasure from doing such unimaginable sexual act, and easier to accept the fact that I am now being dominated by another man and it is my only son, my own blood.

I begin to moan into your bulge as your hands on the back of my head pushing me deeper into your crotch. "Ah.. hmmm....." My eyes close, my face feeling your growing cock and the heat radiating off of it. My tongue circles around the tips of your cock head.

Kad Royce

I don’t think about anything anymore. It’s almost a defense while I am doing the unthinkable, the unimaginable. I force my own father to be my slave. The cries of the bodyguards, what you did to me as a child, everything encourages me to continue. Nothing drives me to stop. I feel the taste of domination winning over me. I lower my trunks and it’s now my dick that is facing your face.

My bulge is no longer enough. You must understand what your place is. I see the precum covering my glans. I see your lips that are just waiting to be filled with a real dose of guy. But first, I must make you understand that here and now it’s me who commands.

I let go of your shoulder to take my dick in hand. My other hand continues to hold your skull close to me. I slap your face with immense pleasure while the guys scream to continue. I just want to see in your eyes the deep, irresistible desire to have your son’s dick at the back of his throat.

Daddy

You are intentionally taunting me. Skills that I have used so many times on you and many other so-called men. And now it is used by my own son so masterfully manipulating me into something that I am not sure I want to be just yet. You want total submission you want complete obedience.

Keeping your cock so close yet so unreachable is creating an itch inside me, in my mind. The longer it is the itchier my body is. The musk from your bulge is getting sweeter. My mouth is salivating. I gulp at the excessive fluid. I bent on my knees with my hands on my side like a little good dog that doesn’t fit my physical characteristics. I might have a bigger body, more muscular physique, and even a bigger cock.

But it is you commanding the scene, commanding me, your father. My eyes tear away from your omniscient cock and looking up with pleading eyes begging for more…. More subjugation…. More desire to serve my own son.

I try to move forward, but your arms keep our distance. Somehow your body seems to be getting more powerful by the second. even my bigger physique can no longer go against your control. "Please.... please... I need it" looking at your eyes and then your exposed cock.

My psychic has shifted like an earthquake. I was ordering my guards around just a few moments ago but now I am on my knees wanting begging needing to have a taste of my own son’s cock.

This person standing before me is a true man now, a true alpha commanding the rest of the men and I have just become one of his latest conquest.

Kad Royce

The intoxication is gaining me. It’s not possible. Not only do I have at my feet a guy more imposing, better-hung than me. But besides, this guy is my father. And what a father! The one who for years harassed me, humiliated me in public and in private. Is this revenge I feel? I don’t really know and the size of my dick against your face proves to me that it’s more complicated than that.

And your eyes! I have a bit of experience with male desire, and I must say that I’ve never seen a guy as much desired by a man’s dick as you. For a few seconds, I tell myself that I should not give in... That these are things that are impossible to do... That it would be a kind of revenge on the way my life has been frustrated because of you. But the pleasure is too great...

I cast my eyes on your gaze, on the way your tongue works your lips as if you wanted to tell me that you are ready to do a good job. I place both my hands on your skull and penetrate your throat with my 8-inch dick while moaning as I have rarely done.

Daddy

THE COCK enters my mouth, and I am struggling since I have never taken one before. It is always the beta taking my big cock. But you are controlling my every move, and my throat is being stuffed by your cock. It may be smaller but it feels big no huge. Bigger than Superman’s. I choke on it. Spits fly everywhere from coughing.

But you lock my head in place until your balls meet my chin. I am running out of air, yet I want to please my new master, my own son. The musk is even sweeter now border-lining to almost intoxicating. I close my eyes and takes deep breaths wanting to suck in as much of my own son’s musk as possible. My tongue starts to work swirling around your glans. Every little tremor from your mighty cock tells me I am doing my job and doing it well. I moan and moan louder and louder like a good beta trying to rouse up his master.

Kad Royce

I would have never believed that something like this could happen to me. My own father, the one who bullied me for so many years, at my knees choking on my dick. And in addition, everything indicates that you are enjoying yourself. Your eyes closed as if you didn’t want to see the obvious, as if you didn’t want to see the pleasure I give you

 I feel the shivers gaining me as your skilled tongue works my dick. But I keep my eyes open so that all the seconds of this moment remain etched in my memory. I place both my hands on your head from now on and intensify the pressure so that your mouth is stuck for a few moments. I feel your bearded chin touching my balls.

My breathing quickens and I forget what’s happening. I forget that I am your son and that you are my father for a few seconds as if I wanted not to remember that we practice a forbidden act. But your moans remind me of who you are: "My father." I look at you smiling "Are you proud of your son, Dad?" while you can’t answer and your saliva drips down my dick.

Daddy

I am accepting my beta role as I swallow my master’s cock serving his most intimate sexual needs. Your hips continue to move, and I am the willing participant sucking your baby makers with my head nodding confirming I am a proud father of you being such a men’s man, the alpha of all alphas. My eyes open looking at yours with new affirmation of a proud father who is enjoying sucking on his own son’s mighty cock.

Kad Royce

I see you now submissive, almost begging me to kiss your mouth with the vigor of a son making his father moan. When I see that your mouth is covered with a mixture of drool and precum, I tell myself that it is now time for me to show you what I am capable of and what your new status is from now on. I pull my dick out of your mouth hoping to see the lack in your eyes. I keep my hands on your skull while forcing you to place your forehead on the ground.

Your muscular and bouncy ass is right in front of me. I know that I will explore it and this perspective makes me even more excited. I especially hope to give you all the pleasure you deserve, as if this pleasure that I give you should allow me to make up for all the harm you have done me.

Without preparing yourself, while I know well that your ass has not often been taken, I insert my 8 inches into your tight hole. I push one hand into your skull so that your face crashes to the ground while the other is on your ass.

Daddy

Your command is my will. You are the only man in the new relationship, and my ass is up for the claim. My ass is a virgin. I am unfamiliar with what to expect. But this man in front of me has made a decision and I must obey. His 8” wastes no time to claim my ass without any prep.

I let of a small moan too afraid to interfere with your claim over my tight hole. You are the first and won’t be the last. Your cock penetrates deep within me marking new territory with each thrust. I try to squeeze my hole to pleasure my new master. But I am the one who moan first as pain turns into waves of incredible joy and pleasure mixing with the pride and happiness of my son becoming a man he is destined to be.

“Ah…mm…. Fuck…. Fuck.. me…. Yes…. Harder…. Please… master”. I can’t believe my son is such an expert in fucking. My head buried deep on the ground can’t even muffle the moan I am letting out.

Kad Royce

How to believe what I am experiencing? When I heard you fucking, when I was little, you were so dominant. I remember that I used to get up to see you take men all more muscular and more beautiful than each other. They were moaning so loudly in a mix of pleasure and pain. And now it’s you who is in this position.

Now, it’s you who is asking me to fuck harder as if you wanted to test my sexual abilities. I tell you with a smile that I have trouble hiding “We’ll see if the student has passed the master, Dad”. I wrap my two hands around your powerful neck to give me strength.

I bend my legs to be able to give more powerful swings. I put my 202 lbs in my hips to come and expel your prostate at each of my strokes. I am talking to you in a voice that I have trouble recognizing because I am so sure of myself and dominant "I will only stop when you beg me to stop, Dad. I want your sexual submission.

Daddy

Your voice has changed. The total dominance is finally fully recognized. You fuck like a beast. You know what you are going. My prostate is being assaulted each time but I want more after the brief moment of separation. This was me used to doing this to other man and bitches. But now I am at the receiving end and I don’t want it to stop. I even raise my ass further up in the air exposing my tight hole even more for easy access.

My head swing left and right as you are long dicking me in my own no longer virgin hole. My body quivers to the waves of pleasure from your mighty cock. It is earth shattering breaking my once proud alpha image in my last thread of dignity to complete dust. I want to be my own son’s slut, whore or whatever he wants to call me from now on.

“Fuck me…. Ah…. Mm…..”. I even bite my own arm trying to keep my sanity intact. But one hard slam of your cock, everything I have done in my life seems to have shattered and become meaningless. “Fuck… fuck.. ah…ahhhh”.

Your cock is now the center of my universe. And with that realization cum explodes out of my big hard cock completely hand free. That’s something only happens to beta slave and man whore. I can no longer deny this fact as evidence is everywhere around me. “‘Master. Please take me … as your whore. Please use my tight little hole for your pleasure and amusement”. I say it out loud for everyone to hear.

Cum continue to shot out of my cock as my son my master’s cock reign supreme in my hole. My body trembles nonstop to the overwhelming orgasm given to me by my one true master my son. Yet my master continues even after my confession to submit. His sexual prowess knows no boundaries. Even in my prime i can’t do what he is doing to me.

The pride of a father once again raises up inside me along with the new waves of overwhelming sexual tension and desire utterly goes unchallenged within my body and my mind.

I know I am close again. I can’t believe how fast my son is making me cum as if I am one of the 3 mins man that people always joke about being so impotent. I don’t want to think about it. But the heat raising deep in my big balls is predicting another eruption soon quicker than someone who has premature ejaculation.

My face is bright red from the coming embarrassment. And your cock has made that happen again when it reaches my prostate. Cum explode out of my 9”hard cock once more. Shot after shot of cum go straight to the ground completely wasted. A real man don’t let that happen. His seed always find the intended target.

But my seed has none. They are shot blankly with no purpose. No real man will let that happen. But I am not a man anymore. I have been enslaved by my own son and I do so willingly welcoming his master cock into my tight hole. Maybe I should even call it pussy or cunt. That’s how i used to called it to my slaves.

And my master’s cock remains hard as steel as my second cumming has come to an end. A pool of my own cum is gathered underneath me wasting their lives away with no purpose in sight. But i don’t care about that. My master’s awesome cock has all my attention right now. I even begin backing my pussy up against his cock trying to help him to get deeper inside his old man. Within a few minutes, my cock is hard but aching but still wanting another release with my balls raising getting ready to shot blank again.

Kad Royce

I see you moaning as I increase the intensity. I can’t even think about the nights you spent having sex with guys when I was little. It seemed like they lasted for hours. All those hours when you didn’t take care of me, too busy making guys moan straight out of the fashion catalog. I am a little stressed to do what I am doing. I always thought that you were one of the most enduring men I had heard having sex.

But in a short time, your moans change, the movements of your body change. Everything is less controlled as if you were letting yourself be overwhelmed by an emotion that I had never seen you capable of. Then in a few minutes, I see your body spasming and the moans turning into a brief scream and in which I can guess a kind of shame.

Damn, I made you spit for the second time in a few moments. I remember how you treated me when, as a child, I didn’t last long in a physical effort or a manual task.... As you were telling me that I was an incapable, a coward. Seeing you in this position where one cannot control oneself also allows me to understand what I am looking for in this moment: a form of revenge.

I look at the bodyguards with a mocking look “Do you think this beta deserves that I fuck him?” By saying this, I only hope one thing... that you ask me... to continue.

Daddy

Hearing my son degrading me somehow creates another once forbidden desire within me. I moan to your insult. My hands tighten as if I am trying to hold on to my last thread of manhood. And then it happens again. Cum is shooting out of my 9” hard cock. A cock that’s in the air with no stimulus of any sort spilling his own essence into nothingness.

My body aches and shake uncontrollably to the incredible orgasm my son has given me. I don’t remember I have ever given such amazing pleasure to anyone before. All those hot looking men and women that I had fucked were reacting like I am right now. I begin to question how much of an alpha I was.

My son has utterly overcome me. My dick is aching real hard yet it still wouldn’t rest. I look at my balls and they seem to get shrunk now that I have cummed 3 times in such close succession. And they seem to be permanently raised up attaching to the base of my cock instead of their usual hanging low.

“Please….. mast…er……. Please use my pussy … til you are … satisfied”. The word comes out of my mouth like the dam has broken. So fast so intense. “Please let me watch you enter my own pussy”. I beg. I want to watch my own son fucking me. That thought makes my dick jumped.

My own mission now is completely turn this person, my son, in front of me, into a real man even if it means humiliation and degradation, even using my big muscular body, even getting fucked in my ass. I will make him the man that he truly meant to be.

Kad Royce

You are only moaning even if you have already lost your second charge. I don’t know why it gives me an incredible feeling. While I thought that this meeting, that my victory was going to give me a feeling of revenge, almost contentment, I realize that it only increases my rage. The more I humiliate you, the more I blame myself for what I accepted from you.

I thought you were an alpha and I considered you my hero. Not because of your kindness, it was even the opposite on your part... But I always thought of you strongly. I realize that everything I did, I did to look like you. Of course, I was different from you. But to see you, now, moan like a whore and feel that you are turning stiff again as you have just let go once again.

It’s not so much your lack of endurance that surprises me. It’s the kind of release you seem to have. As if all this were normal, common, habitual. I don’t know well what is happening inside me. I think I can say that it’s a form of pride. Not to fuck my father... But to prove to you that I am a real man.

When you ask me to use you, to make of you what I hear, I believe that I feel a form of pride. You have never uttered words like that towards me. You have never made me understand that I am someone worth in your eyes. And that’s what I intend to prove to you. I grab you by the arm to press your back against my chest and start jerking off your 9-inch dick while I continue pounding your ass.

Daddy

This must be a surreal scene. A smaller man is penetrating a bigger man’s ass while having his hand jerking the big man’s cock. I can’t imagine. I can’t fathom. But it is happening to me. I moan to that. I moan to every pump on my big cock my son is giving me while his own is deep inside my pussy. My balls are churning fast and I can feel my cum is raising and the dam is cracking.

My hand even places on top of your hand showing you all the tricks to make me ever sluttier in front of everyone. My other hand subconsciously plays with my nipples for even more self sexual pleasure. I can’t even moan anymore. There is no voice coming out of my mouth but spasm muscles everywhere over my used muscular body. I tilt my head back on your powerful shoulder with my back against your warm pecs.

“Yes.. that’s the spot…. You are so big…. So deep…. Yes…. Take me… son. Make me yours”. And soon. The 4th cumming happens. A couple cum shots land on my abs and then reduces to just small droplets. I am being milked dry. And I love every second of my own demise. My cock finally softens and it aches so bad. But you won’t stop pumping my cock. I moan in pain I moan in pleasure. My breathing gets irregular. My body spasms in uncontrollable agony.

Kad Royce

What is happening to me? Me, the wise son, showing fear towards his father? Am I losing all the weight that I created when I was little? Am I rebuilding a new self after this painful childhood? So many questions arise in my head while I am working on your dick, Dad. I hear you, I feel the movements of your body and I know that you are mine even before the 4th wave of sperm coming out of your body.

Even before I see this little jet of sperm flowing down my fingers, I know that you are my toy and that my domination is not only sexual. I continue for a long time to caress your sensitive penis hearing with pleasure your painful moans. I have found my place with you, and I know that everything I am experiencing since you arrived in Dubai is a moment of an unknown intensity.

I can finally free myself from your semen. I feel that the pleasure is starting to rise. It’s at the level of the belly and I continue to hit your prostate. Suddenly, tremors begin to invade me and I lower the trunk to be able to empty myself in you. I make such a scream that the guards open their eyes wide as I am to show my father who is the true man in this family.

Daddy

Your hand keeps working my spent cock, those firm strokes sending jolts through my oversensitive shaft, making me groan deep in my chest as the last dribbles of cum leak out. I'm flat on my back against your pecs in this Dubai suite, the wrestling mat we've turned into our private arena soaked with my sweat and useless seeds, guards outside the door probably hearing every filthy sound but don't dare to interrupt.

At 339 pounds of muscle, I should be the one in control, but you've flipped everything—your 203-pound frame pinning me, your 8-inch cock buried deep in my ass, hitting that spot that breaks my mind and body. “You are THE MAN now, Master”. I rasp, my voice thick with submission and confusion, watching your face twist with those inner storms.

Fear in your eyes? For me, your old man? It hits me hard, stirring something raw in my gut as you pound my prostate relentlessly, your hips slamming forward. I've always been the giant, the daddy who built you up and broke you down, but now you're rebuilding yourself on my defeat, shedding the weight of our fucked-up past one thrust at a time.

I feel it building in you—the tension coiling in your belly, your breaths coming sharper as you caress my throbbing dick, drawing out those painful moans from my lips. “You're... you're freeing us both, son,” I admit, my massive thighs quivering around your waist, pulling you deeper despite the ache.

Your tremors hit, and you drop your chest against my back, our sweat-slicked skin slapping together as you unload inside me, hot ropes of your cum flooding my ass, marking me as yours.

That scream of yours rips through the room, echoing off the gold-trimmed walls, and the guards' eyes monitor through the cracked door—yeah, they see it, the wise son claiming his father's hole, proving who's the real alpha now. My own cock twitches weakly in your grip, a pathetic spurt escaping as your release triggers aftershocks in me.

“Fuck, Master... fill me up,” I beg, my hands clawing at your glutes, surrendering completely to this taboo fire we've ignited. You've drained me dry, body and soul, and in this moment, with your seed spilling out around your pistoning cock, I know I'm just your toy—rebuilt in your image, aching for more of your dominance.

Kad Royce

My dick is emptying in you. There are no more sons, no more fathers, no more family relationships, no more tension... Just a fucking pleasure that is shaking me with intense and uncontrolled spasms. Everything is changing in my body... My breathing no longer regains its usual calm, my body cannot help but tremble.

And my mind... He is only inhabited by the pleasure I took. I don’t have time to think about whether it’s a form of revenge, this pleasure of having broken a forbidden one or if we just had a sex scene as there rarely exists. What I know is that it takes time for me to regain my senses and that I can’t remove this blissful smile from my face.

I just accomplished a feat by beating you and dominating you. I just cleaned up my past and did a job that all the psychotherapies in the world had not allowed me to accomplish. I gently withdraw from you and I realize the density of my jets when I see the sperm flowing from your ass. I get on my knees and grab you by the hair, forcing you to clean my dick with your beard and your mouth as if I wanted my domination to be visible to everyone.

Then I bend down to grab my trunks and yours and head towards the door. “You see, Dad, as the proverb says "Like father, like son" Then I open the door and before going out, I turn to you. I take one last look at you, a bit teasing. While addressing the guards, I say loudly enough for you to hear "This man is yours. Do with what you want!"

Daddy

Your cock pulses deep in my ass, son, flooding me with thick ropes of your hot cum, each spurt stretching me wider as it mixes with the mess already leaking out. At 339 pounds, my body should swallow you whole, but instead, I'm the one shaking under you, my massive frame quivering from the force of your release—spasms ripping through my core, making my spent 9-inch cock twitch uselessly against my belly.

No more daddy, no more boy; just this raw, shattering pleasure binding us, erasing the lines we'd drawn in blood and sweat. I feel every tremor in you, your breaths ragged against my neck, your mind lost in the haze of conquest, and it breaks me open wider than any pinfall ever could. As the waves subside, you pull out slow, that slick pop echoing in the humid air of the suite, and I clench instinctively, but it's no use—your seed gushes from my hole, thick white streams trailing down my crack, pooling on the mat beneath my ass.

The sight of it, so dense and claiming, hits me like a gut punch; you've marked me inside out, son, turned your old man's body into a vessel for your triumph. My chest heaves, breaths coming in sharp gasps that won't steady, mirroring your own chaos—mind blank except for the echo of your dominance, the way you've fucked the past right out of us both.

You rise to your knees, that victorious glow on your face, and grab a fistful of my sweat/cum-matted hair, yanking my head up rough. I don't resist; my mouth waters at the command, beard scraping against your cum-smeared shaft as you force it toward my lips. “Clean it, Dad and now SLAVE,” your eyes demand, and I do—tongue lapping at the salty mix of your load and my ass's musk, sucking the head clean with hollow cheeks, beard matted now with the evidence of my submission.

The guards shift outside, catching glimpses through the door, and humiliation burns hot in my veins, but it only makes my hole clench around the emptiness, craving more. You've made it visible, branded me for all to see: the broken former master, reduced to polishing his son's cock like a trophy.

You release me, standing tall at 6'2" and lean, snatching up our trunks—mine stretched from my bulk, yours from your hard-won edge. That proverb hits like a slap: 'Like father, like son.' But you're the one who won this round, Kad, flipping the script on our twisted legacy. I watch from the mat, body wrecked and glistening, as you stride to the door, pausing for that teasing glance back—your smile a knife in my pride, promising this isn't over.

The door swings open, and your voice booms clear, carrying to me on the floor: “This man is yours. Do with what you want!” The guards—two burly locals in crisp uniforms—exchange looks, their eyes raking over my sprawled form, the cum still dripping from my ass, my cock half-hard from the fresh degradation.

One steps forward, smirking, while the other cracks his knuckles. Panic flickers in my gut, but beneath it, a dark thrill stirs; you've handed me off like property, son, and in this Dubai den of excess, who knows what they'll unleash on a defeated giant like me.

'Kad... Master,' I croak from the floor, voice hoarse with need and fear, 'don't leave me like this.' But you're already turning away, the door clicking shut behind you, leaving me to their mercy—your final gift of surrender, echoing the feat you've just pulled off in my soul.

The door barely clicks shut behind you, Kad, when the guards burst in like wolves on fresh meat, their heavy boots thudding against the marble floor of the suite. I'm still sprawled on the mat, ass gaping and leaking your thick load, my massive 339-pound body heaving with aftershocks, when the first one grabs my ankles and yanks my legs apart wide.

'Look at this beast,' he growls in a thick accent, eyes locked on the creamy mess dribbling from my hole—your victory still warm inside me. His buddies crowd in, four of them now, all ripped and uniformed, cocks already bulging in their pants as they strip down fast, revealing a forest of hard shafts: thick, veiny ones from 7 to 10 inches, some curved, others straight as rods, all throbbing with intent.

They don't waste time. One kneels between my thighs, spitting on his palm before slapping his fat cockhead against my slick entrance, teasing the rim that's still twitching from your pounding. 'Untouchable pussy, huh? Not anymore,' he sneers, and rams in deep with one brutal thrust, stretching me around his girth until my walls clench in protest and pleasure.

I groan loud, back arching off the floor, my own 9-inch cock flopping heavy against my gut, leaking pre-cum from the sudden invasion. Another guard straddles my chest, his balls dragging over my beard as he forces his dick past my lips—salty skin sliding over my tongue, hitting the back of my throat. I suck instinctively, hollowing my cheeks, gagging as he face-fucks me rough, hips snapping forward while his hands pin my shoulders down.

The third circles to my side, grabbing my meaty arm and wrapping my fingers around his pulsing length—hot and rigid, veins bulging under my grip. 'Stroke it, slave,' he commands, and I do, pumping him steady as he grunts approval, his free hand tweaking my nipples hard enough to make me buck.

The fourth isn't idle; he kneels by my head, jerking his cock furiously over my face, pre-cum dripping onto my forehead like a mark of ownership. Cocks everywhere, demanding, overwhelming—surrounding my broken form, turning your old man into their plaything. My ass takes another pounding, the guard inside me slamming balls-deep, churning your cum into froth that squelches out with every withdraw. I moan around the shaft in my mouth, vibrations making the guy on my chest curse in Arabic, his thrusts turning erratic.

'This man is yours. Do with what you want!,' you might as well have said it yourself, Kad, because that's exactly what this is— a frenzy of flesh claiming what's left of me after you shattered the barriers. They rotate, swapping positions with greedy efficiency: the one in my ass pulls out slick and shining, only for another to plunge in, his cock longer, hitting spots that make my toes curl and my vision blur.

Spit-roast now, one reaming my hole while I deepthroat the next, gagging on the mix of sweat and musk. Hands everywhere—groping my pecs, slapping my thighs, yanking my hair to angle my mouth better. My beard's soaked, face smeared with drool and pre, and down below, my ass is a sloppy wreck, stretched wide and begging for more despite the burn.

One guard flips me onto my side, lifting one thick leg high to expose me fully, then drives in from behind while the others crowd closer, their cocks rubbing against my skin, smearing trails of pre across my belly and chest. I feel the weight of it all, this horde using me like a ragdoll, my body betraying me with every involuntary thrust back, chasing the friction.

Cum starts spilling soon—the first load blasts into my ass, hot jets filling me up again, overflowing as the next guy takes his turn without pause. Another unloads down my throat, forcing me to swallow the bitter flood, while ropes paint my beard and hair from the jerking ones above. I'm drowning in it, Kad, your gift turning me into a cum-dump for these strangers, my mind fracturing under the onslaught, no thoughts left but the raw need to serve, to take every inch they give.

Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of the door, half-wishing you'd come back to watch—or join—but knowing this is your doing, your final stamp on my submission. My cock spurts untouched finally, splattering my abs as the orgy peaks, bodies piling on, cocks unrelenting. What have you unleashed on me, Master? And god, do I crave it all.

THE END

Published: 2026-01-21, viewed 242 times.