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You Suffer For Our Pleasure
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Starring
The lights dim over the packed underground arena. The scent of sweat, leather, and adrenaline hangs thick in the air. The crowd buzzes with anticipation, chants rising as the reigning champ Dylan O'Brien, basking in his spotlight, cocky as ever.
He doesn’t know it yet, but his night is about to change.
Dylan O'Brien
I've been the title holder at this underground fighting club for a while now and whether it be the numerous consecutive wins or my prior success in the acting industry, it's apparent that the ego has gotten to my head a bit. I've pretty much stated that the title is mine to keep and when I heard that a new guy was planning to challenge me to a match for the title I practically laughed. Some no name thought he was gonna take my title from me? I hadn't even seen your face before, but I knew it'd be an easy match - they all were. So I donned my normal black trunks showing off my bulge for the adoring fans, my black boots, and my black backwards hat as I made my way to the ring, hopping in as my name was called and flexing for the audience. I loved getting all their applause and showing off for them and taking you down was going to be an easy way to do so. So, once my showboating was done, I made my way to my corner and waited for your arrival.
Dadicus
I first heard about this underground fight club from the whispers... those dark, sweaty backrooms where real wrestlers go to prove they’re more than just hype and highlight reels. Word was, some cocky pretty boy was running the scene, winning match after match like it was scripted for him. The name? Dylan O’Brien. A former actor turned self-proclaimed underground champ, walking around like the title was tattooed on his balls. They said he had the crowd in the palm of his hand, that no one had come close to beating him. I smiled when I heard that. Because a place like this? It was built for someone like me. So I showed up tonight... uninvited, unannounced but got a spot... wearing my signature gray briefs, black waistband hugging tight to my hips, glasses still on as I stepped through the shadows toward the ring. I didn’t come for applause. I came for the silence after I break a man who thought he was untouchable. The announcer calls my name, and the crowd murmurs. Some cheer. Mostly boo. Good. Let them doubt. I slide under the bottom rope and rise to my full height 6’2 of raw confidence and walk straight to the middle of the ring. I take off my glasses slow, deliberate, and hand them to the ref without a word. Then I look at Dylan. The champ. The smirk on his face is the same one every loudmouth has right before they realize they’re not special. I tilt my head, crack my neck, and roll my shoulders like I’m loosening the leash. He probably thinks this is going to be easy. But he just walked into a storm he can’t dance his way out of. And I plan to leave with his title… and maybe a little more.
Dylan O'Brien
I barely even see you at first as I'm looking around at the crowd that's still cheering me on - it's not until they start whispering and murmuring that I notice your arrival. You're completely silent, not saying a word as you make your way to the ring, glasses on your face like you're handling this super nonchalant but I know you have to be nervous inside. After all, taking on the champ? You were going to be leaving here embarrassed when I was done. You don't acknowledge me though, which flusters me a bit, watching as you crack your neck and roll your shoulders. A scoff and adjust the backwards hat on my head, smirking as I step a bit toward the center of the ring. "I finally get to see your face man, wasn't sure what to expect. Guess you look decently tough, though don't hold it against me when I wipe the floor with you old man," I taunt, noticing the difference in our age as I look you up and down. Surely this would be an easy match, I had youth on my side after all. I take a moment and crack my own neck, bouncing on my feet with energy as I take my starting stance, waiting for the bell to ring to send us into combat. I watch you closely, wondering if you'd make the first move or if you'd expect me to step first, my eyes analyzing every action your body does.
Dadicus
You're not what I pictured. You’re leaner. Younger. Full of that reckless energy only guys in their twenties have. The black hat, the trunks, the showboating it’s all part of the act. But the way you’re watching me now? That’s real. Focused. Waiting. You don’t charge in like some dumb rookie. You want me to move first. Smart. But not smart enough. I’m standing dead center of the ring, not saying a word, the tension between us thick enough to cut. You taunted me something about being an old man. I smirk, I can tell you don't know anything about me. Let the crowd eat it up. I don’t care. I take a single step forward and that’s all it takes. My boots scrape the mat, my shoulders squared with yours, eyes locked, I see your stance tighten. You’re ready but so am I. With a growl under my breath, I lunge and lock arm with you, your smirk falters. The crowd roars. My chest crashes into yours as we push for control, muscles straining, our bodies shifting with every ounce of leverage. I drive forward, slowly forcing you back.
Dylan O'Brien
I can tell that you're different from any of my other opponents before. You seem more calm than I anticipated, more confident in your movements. It still didn't phase me though - I had taken on greats and giants and felled them in the ring easily, you'd be no different. My eyes narrowed as you stood there, body tensing as soon as you took the first step. Your boots instantly started scraping the mat and I prepped myself, your arms locking with mine as my smirk falters for a moment, surprised at your strength as we crash together, my body sliding back just a bit from the effort. The crowd is eating up the immediate action but as you use every amount of leverage, pushing forward, I'm slowly forced back by your larger height and size. My eyes narrow a bit, my heels digging into the canvas to push back but finding little success as you shove with all your might. My mind starts racing, trying to think of my next move, eyes locking with yours as I quickly dig my left foot into the ground, pulling up my right knee to try to quickly strike straight between your legs to end the test of strength quick and just.
Dadicus
I'm pushing you back inch by inch, our boots grinding against the mat as I overpower your smaller frame. You’re giving it everything, I can tell but it’s not enough. My muscles are tight with control, my breath steady, the sound of the crowd fading behind the tunnel vision I’ve locked onto your cocky little smirk. But then WHAM! a low blow. A sharp pain explodes between my legs. My whole body jolts, my back arching as that dirty knee drives up into my groin. I stumble, lips parting in a guttural grunt, one arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to stay upright while the other clutches my bulge in raw, reeling agony. The arena erupts. The crowd is roaring with approval at your cheap shot... rabid for blood, chaos, humiliation. I grit my teeth, eyes narrowing through the pain. “…Ohhh… you’re one of those,” I growl, voice low and dangerous, my breath hot against your neck as I lean in close. “A cheap little fucker trying to steal a win before the real fight even begins.” The ref hesitates, unsure if he should step in, but I don’t give him the chance. My grip on your waist tightens, even as my other hand shields my throbbing bulge. "you are going to pay for that" I grunt
Dylan O'Brien
My knee makes direct impact as you grunt, your tunnel vision betraying you as I attack a place you were least expecting as you almost drop to your knees, bracing yourself around my waist as you hold your aching nuts. "Damn, that looks like it hurt bro!" I taunt loud, the crowd cheering and applauding at my cheap shot, knowing the rules of the game I play in the ring while you grit your teeth and try to bear through the pain. "Oh, I'm one of those," I repeat smirking as you lean in to call me a cheap fucker, your grip on my waist tightening. "Did you not read the rules of the ring, bro? There are no rules, is it really a cheap shot or were you just underprepared?" I say smugly, pulling against your grip while the crowd cheers on. "Hopefully when I'm done with you you don't make a mess on the canvas," I say with a smirk, pushing out of your grip around my waist as I rush back against the opposite side of the ring, bouncing off the ropes and rushing straight back at you with my arm extended for an attempted clothesline.
Dadicus
Still hunched forward, one hand gripping my throbbing bulge, I hear you smirking, cocky as ever: "Did you not read the rules of the ring, bro? There are no rules, is it really a cheap shot or were you just underprepared?" You’re right. This isn't about fairness, it’s about survival. About humiliation. And I’ve been playing too clean. I see you bounce off the ropes, charging full speed with that smug swagger, arm outstretched for a flashy clothesline. But you’re too confident. Too loud. I duck low and slide behind you, locking you into an inverted face-lock. The shift is so fast the crowd barely tracks it. "Welcome to my rules." I growl against your ear. Your spine crashes against my knee in a brutal backbreaker that arches your body like a snapped bowstring... but I’m not done. Still gripping your head, I twist my body and SLAM you into the mat with a vicious neck-breaker. We both crash to the canvas, but only one of us is moving with purpose. I roll over, plant my elbow, and lazily adjust my bulge again, this time with a smirk. "You wanted a mess on the canvas?" I murmur low, staring at your twitching frame. "You just started it."
Dylan O'Brien
I'm running at you full force, smirk on my face as the audience cheers my name loud - until their cheers stop abruptly when you duck low and slide behind me, locking me into an inverted face-lock. "Aaargh, what the-" I groan, head bent back before you drop me down hard against your knee, my back arching and spine aching as I yelp out in pain. You don't waste any time though and continue the fluid motion, twisting and slamming me to the mat with a neck breaker as my body bounces against the canvas and falls still for a moment. The crowd is a mixture of silent stares and boos, unsure how to react to the newcomer's moves. "Uuuugh... fuck..." I groan out, head spinning a bit as I try to sit up. "Oh yeah? Bring your worst," I groan out, pulling myself up to my knees as the audience cheers, throwing my arms to the side, shoving you away with my forearm as I reach for the top rope with my other arm, pulling myself up attempting to steady myself.
Dadicus
I see your body groaning, dragging itself toward the ropes. My lip curls. You’re still fighting. Good. That’ll make breaking you all the sweeter. I kick back up to my feet in one clean motion and tilt my head, cracking my neck slow as I gesture toward you with a flick of my fingers. “Come on, champ… show me what that title’s worth.”
Dadicus
I start pacing, circling, waiting for the right angle. My fists tighten. My boots scrape. The crowd doesn't know whether to cheer or hold their breath. You throw your arm over the top rope and start pulling yourself upright like it costs you everything. That’s when I murmur under my breath: “No rules, huh? You little fucker...” The moment you get both feet under you BOOM! I explode forward like a freight train. The canvas thunders beneath my charge. Your back is barely off the ropes as I charge with a clothes line to take you out of the ring.
Dylan O'Brien
You easily flip yourself upright, almost as if you're showing off for the crowd as they watch in amazement, surprised at the change of pace from the normal matches I've had where I've dominated. "Heh, you want to see what the title's worth? I'll show you," I say smugly, finally pulling myself up to my feet as I turn to face you, catching you just as you charge at me full force with your clothesline. My eyes widen as it catches me, my body flipping over the top rope and crashing down, my side hitting the canvas before I drop down onto my back spread eagle. "Uuuugh, fuck," I groan, back arching a bit as my arm goes under it to hold it from the pain that surges through it, eyes wincing as a couple of the audience members cheer loud in your favor.
Dadicus
Your back is barely off the ropes when my arm cuts across your chest like a guillotine. CRACK. Your whole body lifts into the air, launched over the top rope like a ragdoll, crashing to the hard floor below. The impact echoes like thunder, and the arena explodes into a mess of roars and gasps. I stalk to the ropes, towering above the edge of the ring, breathing steady, glaring down at you. You’re writhing outside like a knocked-over king off his throne, the black hat somewhere in the chaos, fans screaming your name like it’ll protect you. “Where’s all that talk now, Dylan?” I growl, eyes narrowed. “This ring doesn’t belong to you anymore.” I duck out under the ropes and drop to the floor. The air is thick with heat and tension as I grab a fistful of your hair and yank you up to your knees, then to your feet. “NHB, right!?” I snarl, face inches from yours, eyes locked as I scream the words to the crowd behind you. The audience unleashes a wave of boos and shouts, furious at what I’m about to do... but that only fuels me. I grab your arm, drape it over my shoulder, then lift your legs effortless and slam your groin down hard onto the top edge of the barricade in a brutal inverted atomic drop. THWACK.
Dadicus
Your body jolts violently, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, pain flashing across your face like lightning. You don’t even have time to fall before I rush in and BOOM! a brutal lariat blasts across your chest and drops you to the concrete floor. The arena gasps again. The air goes cold for a beat. And I just laugh. I raise my arms wide and turn toward your side of the audience, mocking their outstretched hands and horrified expressions. “This your champ?” I bark. “You better pray he gets up, because I’m not done yet.”
Dylan O'Brien
As I finally start to recover I glance over, seeing my hat off to the side having slipped off my head from the fall. "Uuugh, fucker," I groan, hands running through my messy yet somehow charming hair as I writhe a bit more in pain, one hand holding my back as I try to roll over to my side to get up, scowling as you say the ring is no longer mine. Before I can even find my footing you've already grabbed a handful of my hair, my face wincing as you pull me up to my feet. "Let go!" I snarl, the crowd in awe as you mention NHB before - WHAM! You've grabbed my arm and draped it over your shoulder, lifting my legs effortlessly as you slammed my nuts straight down onto the barricade. "UUUUGH!" My eyes cross a bit as my hands reach for my aching nuts, my cock stirring in my trunks a bit from the low blow as I attempt to grunt in pain, a silent scream coming out instead as pain flashes across my face. Instantly after you send a blast right across my chest and I hit the concrete floor hard, gasping for the wind almost knocked out of me, holding my aching bulge as the crowd watches in amazement while you laugh.
Dylan O'Brien
I watch you for a moment in pain, eyeing you as you cockily turn yourself away from me, addressing the audience as you try to denounce their champion. I scowl, eyes narrowing as you light the fire in me even more. It's never wise to turn your back to your opponent just because you think you have the upper hand. I quickly crawl up to my feet and give you a hard uppercut between the legs straight into your nuts, smirking as I see your body react from behind. The audience cheers loudly at my return fire as I grab you by the throat, running and throwing you back through the ropes as I roll under them, circling you like a predator. "What was that? Having trouble keeping up old man?"
Dadicus
As I move to grab you again, a drink splashes near my boots, some fan’s lame attempt at getting involved. I turn, jaw tight, and fire a glare at the punk in the front row. I mock the little shit, hand to my mouth like I’m choking on cock, flipping him off. “This your champ? Cocksucker’s got nothing left!” But I don’t see you coming.
Dadicus
WHAM. A brutal uppercut slams straight into my balls. My body jolts, legs buckling as the pain detonates through my core. I double over with a loud grunt, arms clamping down around my bulge as my face twists in a silent scream. The crowd explodes, flipping sides, roaring for you now. You grab a fistful of my hair, yanking me upright. “Fuck…” I gasp, staggering as you drag me toward the apron. My boots scrape the floor, my mind racing through the haze. My grip on my bulge is tight, sweat dripping down my chest as I start to rise again. You circle like a jackal thinking you’ve wounded the lion. But I’m still breathing. And now… I’m fucking pissed as I get to one knee.
Dylan O'Brien
I continue to circle you, my cocky smirk back on my face as I watch you hold your aching nuts. "Damn, looks like that hurts bro, want me to kiss it better?" I taunt, the crowd laughing as you start to get back up on one knee. "Nah, everyone's about to see what a champion is capable of. In fact, how about this," I say, grabbing your hair as you get to your knee, pulling your head back for the audience to see. "Once I'm done humiliating you here, you're mine. Winner gets the loser as their own - you can interpret that however you want," I say with a smirk, lifting my brow at the audience. "What do you guys think? Think he's gonna be mine after this?" The crowd starts roaring again as I then pull you up by your hair, attempting to grab you at the waist to lift you up above me to drop you straight back down to the canvas.
Dadicus
Your hand yanks my hair, my head pulled back like some trophy for these roaring bastards to gawk at. Pain still pulses through my groin, but my eyes? My eyes are locked on yours... burning. You run your mouth about taking me as your prize, talking like you’ve already won. Like I’m just another notch on your belt. You have no idea who the fuck you just laid a claim on. Your arms slide around my waist, lifting me like a prop for your next big moment. But the second I leave the ground, I twist legs tucking under, body shifting, using your momentum against you And I swing down hard. CRACK. Your skull slams into the mat in a devastating DDT. The crowd gasps. You’re laid out, dazed, your ego leaking out across the canvas. I drop low beside you, my hand gripping your jaw, fingers digging in as I yank your face up to meet mine. “Keep talking about owning me,” I growl through my teeth, voice like steel, “and see how that works out.”
Dylan O'Brien
I'm grinning out at the crowd, the pride, ego, and cockiness on display as I grab at your waist, practically showing off as I get ready to slam you. To my surprise, though, you quickly twist your legs and tuck, shifting your body and using my own momentum against me. "What the-" CRACK! My skull slams onto the canvas in a devastating DDT, my body flopping up to an upright position for a half second before flopping back out spread eagle, eyes seeing stars as I lay there unmoving, staring up at the ceiling. "Uuuugh..." I quietly groan out, the audience in shock, some of them now wildly cheering for you and the change of pace in the underground league. My eyes flutter for a moment as you drop down next to me, grabbing my jaw, your fingers digging in as you yank my face to yours to growl through your teeth at me. I try to respond but I'm still in a daze, realizing now the terms I set out and that you're a scary opponent, my pride and ego shattering and nerves taking over. If I laid out that winner gets the loser as their own, I can't just hand myself over to you with my own words and bet. "Uuuugh..." I groan out again, head lifting up while I'm still spread eagle, trying to pull myself upright as my fans cheer out my name to try to give me strength and motivation.
Dadicus
You groan beneath me, your body sprawled out like a broken offering to the ring gods, chest heaving, eyes flickering as the echo of that DDT still rings through your skull. But I see it. Not just the pain no, that’s expected, but the crack. That fracture in the ego you strutted in with. The doubt sinking in. I lean in, my fingers still hooked under your jaw, pressing your head up, making sure the crowd sees your glazed expression. “Come on, champ,” I growl low, inches from your face. “Show 'em you’ve still got something left.” Then I stand fast my boots stomping the mat as I step between your legs. I grab your thighs, yank them up, and with a violent jerk, I spike your hips straight down, slamming your groin hard across my knee. THWACK. Your body jolts. Folds. Twitches from the impact. You curl up in instinctive agony, the audience gasping and roaring, the champ just got cracked in front of his kingdom. I stand over you, adjusting my gear, letting the moment linger. “You talked like a king, Dylan…” I sneer, my voice cutting through the noise. “…but you’re starting to look like my jester.”
Dylan O'Brien
Several of the audience members seemed to have started jumping ship, cheering for you as you grab at my jaw and tilt my head up, showing off my glazed expression as I try to reel back in from the DDT that sent my head spinning. "You're asking for it..." I groan, trying to get up to my knees as you grab my thighs, yanking them up and then jerking them down violently as my hips slam down against you, my groin slamming straight into your knee with a THWACK! My body jolts and my eyes bulge, my mouth in an O shape while no sound comes out as I fold up and curl in instinct, cheers and boos roaring across the arena now as the crowd seems split. Not only has my pride and ego been cracked, but now my manhood too as I cup my aching nuts. My cock has started to grow hard from the low blows, tenting in my gear which I try to hide despite the cameras in the arena trying to get a good view of from a distance. "I'm no one's jester..." I sneer through the pain, crawling up to my hands and knees, reaching for the ropes to pull myself up.
Dadicus
I hear your words “I’m no one’s jester” as you crawl to the ropes, reaching out like some broken prince desperate for his throne. I shake my head with a smirk. “You say that…” I growl, stepping in behind you. But your actions say otherwise. I grab your legs and yank them up your arms scrambling, body suspended by the ropes. You're exposed, helpless, hanging there just long enough WHAM! My kick slams up between your legs. Your entire body jolts, mouth falling open in a silent scream. The crowd explodes. Half gasp. Half cheer. “But look at you…” I sneer in your ear. “So damn entertaining.” WHAM! Another brutal low blow this one louder, harder, echoing through the arena like a gunshot. I let you go. You crumple forward, collapsing onto the mat clutching your bulge, rolling in pain like a fool who forgot this was No Holds Barred. “Look at you dancing now,” I taunt, stepping over your twitching body. “Not a jester, huh? Then why you got me laughing?” as I look at your squirming body move from side to side.
Dylan O'Brien
I've just caught hold of the ropes as you step behind me, grabbing my legs and yanking them up leaving me suspended. I'm scrambling, grabbing and clenching the ropes to hold myself up so I don't hit my face on the canvas, exposed and helpless to your attacks as I hang there. WHAM! Your foot sails straight up between my legs right into my bulge I put on display. My body jolts and my mouth drops open, silent scream trying to force out some sort of noise from my lips as my body tries to fold in on itself. The crowd has mixed reactions but all of it is fuel, both gasps and cheers as you sneer at me. WHAM! Another brutal kick, this time harder, louder, the thwack from your foot against my nuts echoing across the arena like a gunshot. As soon as you release me my body crumples forward, trembling as I collapse to the mat, holding my aching nuts as I roll back and forth. "My fucking nuts," I cry out, holding them in pain as some of the audience joins in on the laughter.
Dylan O'Brien
"You fucker!" I groan out, reaching deep into my will power to pull myself to my feet despite the aching between my legs. The slight nausea in my gut from the low blows makes me woozy as I stand, and as I balance myself against the ropes my full hardon is now on display in my gear from the low blows you delivered, a small wet spot at the peak of the tent as I let out a low growl. I look more like a wounded animal now, frightened but dangerous, though you seem to have found a good way to put me under control. My charming dark hair is now disheveled and my breathing a bit labored as I try to react before you can, pushing off the ropes, trying to ignore the pain as I rush forward, spinning on my heel as I send a high kick straight toward your head.
Dadicus
Your movements are sluggish now, wild and desperate... throwing everything at the wall just to see what sticks. That high kick comes in high and reckless, your balance shot, your pride still aching. I duck low... perfect. And while your leg’s still hanging in the air, I kick upward hard right into your groin. THWACK. You double over mid-motion with a strangled gasp, your body jolting from the impact like you’d been struck by lightning. The crowd roars in stunned reaction gasps, laughs, even a few cheers but all I hear is you choking on that pain, folded over like a puppet with cut strings. "Right back where we started, huh?" I sneer, grabbing your jaw with one hand as you sink to your knees. "You wanted to humiliate me at the start of this match... now look at you."
Dadicus
I see you on your knees, body trembling, your breath ragged and uneven. I grab your head and yank it under my arm, locking in a brutal dragon sleeper, my forearm crushing your throat, your back arched for the whole damn crowd to see. That’s when I notice it... your trunks stretched tight, your cock visibly hard and leaking through the fabric. You’re drenched in sweat, but that wet spot? That ain’t sweat. I grin darkly, shifting my stance behind you as I keep the sleeper cinched in. My free hand drifts down under your trunks, slow, deliberate and I grab your balls. Not soft. Not gentle. I grab it, squeeze it tight, forcing a desperate grunt from your throat. The crowd erupts in shocked laughter and howls of disbelief. "You like putting on a show, Dylan?" I hiss, squeezing harder. “Let’s give ‘em one they’ll never forget.” I lift your body by your balls, dragging you around like a limp trophy as I grind the pressure into your bulge, your legs kicking weakly. This ain’t just a hold anymore, it’s a statement. as I keep manhandling you cock for everyone to see.
Dylan O'Brien
My moves are all fueled by frustration and rage, my broken pride and ego blindly guiding the way as I send the kick high and feel the instant regret as I see you duck low. FWACK. Your leg kicks straight up, your foot flying up hart right into my vulnerable exploded nuts. My head flies back like I've been electrocuted, pain surging through me as I folder over, body trembling as a choked gasp escapes my lips. I was shut down with one swift kick, the target I put on display between my legs being a perfect landing mark as the crowd gaps, laughs, and cheers, more and more people slowly joining to your side. I'm choking on the pain, strained noises coming out as I remain folded over, sinking down to my knees as you grab my jaw keeping my head up while you speak to me, humiliation setting in as I hold my aching balls. My body is shaking, breathing ragged and uneven as my manhood throbs, my first low blow against you having opened me up for the onslaught that followed.
Dylan O'Brien
You are quick to keep up the punishment, wrapping your arm around my head and jerking it back, my face straining as my eyes stare up at the ceiling, the dragon sleeper clamped on tight as you crush my throat, my back arched as my abs and manhood are put on display for everyone to see. That's when you notice it - the hardon straining against my fabric, the wet spot forming at the tip. The crowd also seems to notice it, whistles of lust and taunting bouncing around as they see the outline of my hard cock through the fabric. I'm completely vulnerable in the hold as my arms try to pull at yours, your other hand drifting down into my trunks. My eyes go wide as I feel your hand slowly push their way down to my balls before clamping on. Not gently, not moderately. Like a vice, forcing out a desperate grunt from my throat as I claw at your arm for freedom to no avail. My cock seems to react along with the crowd, beginning to throb as you squeeze my nuts, the crowd yelling out with laughter and disbelief. I let out a choked grunt as you squeeze harder, mentioning it was time to put on a show the audience would never forget.
Dylan O'Brien
What came next caught me - and the audience - by surprise. You lift my body by my balls, silent screams coming from my lips as my eyes water, my legs weakly kicking as you show me off like a limp trophy to the audience - your trophy - as you grind more pressure into my nuts. It's clear you're making a statement and the audience is eating it up, more and more of them slowly joining over to your side of the cheers. My cock is throbbing and twitching in my gear, a load starting to brew from the low blows and leaking more and more into my trunks as you parade me around by my very manhood. I try to speak but in the sleeper hold I can't, under your complete control as you pull my balls tight in my trunks, cock twitching against my speedo as several members of the audience start snapping pictures and video.
Dadicus
That’s when I feel it a warm, damp, string against my palm. I smirk. “Ohhh… you like this? You’re not just cocky… you’re aching.” I murmur low, just for you, while the crowd watches in stunned silence. I scoop your body up with one smooth motion, hoisting you high for all your fans to see, displaying their golden boy like a trophy in my grip. Then BAM! I drop you against my knee in a brutal backbreaker hold, one arm cranking your chin back, the other pressed firm over your straining bulge, keeping you pinned. “How’s it feel, champ?” I growl, bouncing you in place. “Knowing that title… and that body… both about to belong to a no one.” The crowd gasps, half wild with cheers, half in disbelief.
Dadicus
Your soaked bulge throbs against my thigh, your spine curved obscenely over my knee like a bent offering. One hand claws into your hair, yanking your head back, red face is angled to the crowd flushed, twitching, humiliated. The other rests firm on your pulsing cock through your soaked trunks, palm grinding just enough to make you squirm. “Yeah… that’s it,” I murmur, letting my voice drip slow and cruel near your ear. “You’re not just hurt… you’re horny. Crowd sees it. Hell, I feel it.” The crowd is on fire now some gasping, some chanting my name as your manhood twitches against my thigh like it’s begging for permission. I slap your bulge once with the back of my fingers not hard, just enough to remind you who’s in control. “Tell me, champ,” I growl, hand now resting just under your waistband as I pull back your trunk and let your cock free as I slowly rub it for everyone to see .
Dylan O'Brien
"Mmmmmph-" I try to speak, try to object as you crush my nuts, but the pain and the hold keep me from getting any words out as you murmur low just to me, face turning slightly more red for embarrassment as the audience watches on with anticipation. This is the first time they've ever seen me struggle in a match and not only am I struggling, I'm being dominated and humiliated. The more they watch the more the crowd starts cheering for the underdog, rooting for the no name opponent who was swiftly handling the long time champion. There's a brief moment of relief as you release me, scooping up my weakened body with easy as you display me like a prize you've earned for the audience, letting them soak in the view of my hot body getting manhandled and defeated, the sight of my bulge starting to dampen and strain the fabric of my trunks as I let out strained noises. Then BAM! You drop me hard into a backbreaker, my chin cranked back as you press it down with one hand, your other pressed against my staining bulge to keep me pinned. Your hand against my bulge practically outlines it, almost looking obscene as the cameras around the arena zoom in to get a better view of it while you bounce me up and down, my bulge also bouncing as I grunt with each movement, your words frustrating me but my body unable to fight back.
Dylan O'Brien
My spine looks contorted over your knee as you hold me in place, one of your hands clawing into my charming locks, yanking back the pretty boy's hair, my face red and humiliated as it looks out at the crowd, twitching and wincing as they all stare straight back at me. Your other hand is resting on my cock, my large hardon throbbing against your hand, your skin grinding against it just enough to make my skin crawl. I hear you murmuring into my ear, pointing out how horny I am from being hit in the nuts, how the crowd sees it too - how you can feel it. My face unbelievably turns an even darker shade of red for a moment as I feel the embarrassment, even more people now chanting your name as my very essence of a man twitches against your thigh, almost as if it was acting against me. You slap the my bulge just enough to remind me who's in control, my body trembling as you demand me to tell you, your hand under my waistband as you pull back my trunks. My cock and balls spring free, the large and impressive hardon bobbing around as the crowd goes wild at the sexy and humiliating sight while you start to slowly rub it.
Dylan O'Brien
My cock twitches and throbs more as you slowly stroke, practically betraying me as I do my best to keep my composure. My head is still tilted back, eyes meeting the gaze of a large portion of the audience as they watch you manhandle my cock and balls, stroking my pride and joy while contorting me like a pretzel over your knee. I'm humiliated and don't want to give you the satisfaction, not like this, not even in this precarious situation. My eyes glance toward you to try to lock our gaze for a moment, a spark of defiance in my eyes as I grunt and flinch. "N-no, I refuse to tell you anything," I say against my better judgement, the crowd eating up every minute of my defiance. "I'm in control of me," I add with the determination of someone who's trying to remain unbroken the best he can.
Dadicus
I yank your head up by the hair, forcing eye contact, your face flushed, your breathing ragged. “You say you're in control?” I growl low, my voice just for you. “Then you’re choosing to love every second of this, champ.” My hand glides down your chest, slow and deliberate, tracing the sweat-slicked muscle until it finds your abs then lower. The crowd’s hoots rise as I lean in, licking a slow line across your stomach before dragging my tongue across your nipple as I start to suck on it, letting it hang there in my mouth as your body shivers beneath the hold.
Dadicus
“You want to put on a show for your fans?” I whisper with a smirk, twisting your head back to face them. “Then show them what a real submission looks like.” I hike your body higher on my knee, keeping you stretched in the backbreaker, one arm locked around your chin, the other pressing low into your cock picking up speed, just enough to make you squirm. You’re right on the edge, your body betraying you as I keep working you toward the breaking point, all while I taunt the fans who once chanted your name.
Dylan O'Brien
Goosebumps rush over my skin as your hand glides down my chest, tracing down the lines of my chest and abs as it descends lower. Your tongue licks a line across my tight stomach and up to my nipple, sucking on it as my body shivers and trembles from the hold. My face is twitching as I try to ignore the sensations of pain and pleasure intertwining into one, the audience watching in awe now as you contort and work my body like art. You hoke my body up higher, stretching me in the backbreaker even more as your arm is locked on my chin, my cock now pointing straight up like a beacon as you press low into it, picking up speed as my haggard breathing becomes even more rough and sporadic, trying to keep myself grounded as you make me squirm against you. My body quivers and tenses as I'm right on edge, about to blow a load any moment as you push me at my breaking point, the fans cheering and supporting you while my few remaining supporters watch in silence. "I'm... I..." I grunt out, my voice hitching in my throat as I try to fight back the sensation, my balls bouncing below my cock as you stroke it, on complete edge as you control me like personal toy in the center of the ring.
Dadicus
I feel it your body tensing across my knee, trembling with need, the kind of desperation you can’t fake. Your abs tighten, chest heaving, thighs twitching. You’re right there. Right at the edge. SMACK. My hand slaps into your bulge, jarring you out of that brink. You jolt with a strangled noise, and I laugh, deep and low. “Is that what you need, Dylan?” I sneer, leaning in close. “A reminder that you don’t get to finish until I say so?” Another slap sharper, meaner and your whole body convulses. I grip your throbbing cock tighter, grinding the heel of my palm down low, working you faster, rougher, like I’m milking you for the crowd. “Look at this cock. Look at it. It’s asking, begging to release,” I growl. “How does it feel, champ, to have your title... and your control... slipping out from between your legs?”.
Dylan O'Brien
My handsome face is contorted with pain and pleasure, the cocky gleam in my eye dulling as I almost drool onto the canvas below me, my abs tightening, body twitching, lust on the edge of winning before - SMACK! Your hand smacks into my bulge, my entire body jolting from the surprise as I groan loud, my balls aching as I moan in the displeasure of my almost orgasm fading away. You send another slap, this time sharper and meaner, right into my bulge and my body convulses again. This time the slap brings me closer to blowing again, my cock almost going extreme humiliation by blowing hands free from a low blow. My voice chokes in my throat as you grip my throbbing cock tighter again, grinding the heel of your palm down low as you work faster and rougher than before, my cock practically being milked for the crowd that cheer and admire the beauty of my handsome cock getting worked for them. "Uuuuugh..." I groan in response to your words, unable to fully put together any coherent sentence as I'm in a dazed state, cock teetering on edge over and over as you milk it, my title, my manhood, my ego, my pride all being controlled between my legs.
Dadicus
“Who wants to see the champ lose it all right here?!” I bark to the crowd, gripping your soaked trunks tight as I jerk you to the edge. The audience roars, surging with fevered energy as I force your twitching body to dance on the line between pain and release. Your cock throbs helplessly in my grip, trapped between humiliation and craving, every muscle in your abs tightening, begging for that final push and this time I let you have it. I slide my hand up your trembling chest, fingers dragging across your sweat-slick skin. “You’re right there, aren’t you?” I growl in your ear. “So damn close. The ‘champion’ juice” I grind my palm down again and again, never letting you drop this time… . “Don’t worry…” I murmur, slow and possessive. “You can keep your little belt, Dylan. I’m just here to leave a mark no one will forget.” And right now? You’re mine to play with.
Dylan O'Brien
As you egg on the audience the crowd goes wild, almost every single person now screaming in your support, watching as your hand grips my soaked trunks tight as you jerk me to the edge. My body bounces and dances as you stroke my cock nonstop, my mind dancing in and out of pain and pleasure as the audience cheers out loud. "Make him cum! Make him cum! Make him cum!" Suddenly all my supporters seem to be against me, happy to see the cocky and overconfident champion get used and abused in his own ring. Chills run down my bent spine as you run your hand up my trembling chest, your words loud and echoing in my ear even though they're only meant for me. The sensations over my body are overwhelming as you demand I'm yours to play with and finally my cock can take no more as my body tenses up. "Uuu-uuughh-" I start to grunt, boding trying to stiffen out straight, toes curling as my throbbing cock starts pumping rope after rope of cum like a geyser, all over my trunks as you continue to stroke me, my cock bouncing wildly as you continue to milk it. My breath hitches several times as my body jolts in surges of electricity as I shoot out several more ropes, finally the breath entering my lungs again as I'm bent back over your knee, the crowd cheering wildly at seeing the champion's geyser erupt while you humiliate me.
Dadicus
Your body jolts, spasming with overstimulation, your chest rising and falling as the heat of the moment ripples through every muscle. I lift your head by the hair, forcing your dazed eyes to lock onto your own glistening cock. The crowd is roaring some in disbelief, others in sheer delight. "Like what you see, Dylan?" I growl low in your ear, letting the words drip like venom. "Most of your fans do." I keep the pressure steady, not letting you fall into the comfort of release edging you more. Your abs twitch, your bulge still straining and sensitive, and I grind the heel of my palm right over it, drawing another helpless gasp from your lips. The crowd watches as I keep you right at that edge humiliated, broken, but too wrecked to resist. "You can keep the belt," I whisper, my grip tightening as my palm keeps edging your sensitive head. " how sensitive are you right now, take a good look at your cock"
Dylan O'Brien
I'm trying to fall into the ecstasy of release as you grab my head, forcing my glazed eyes to lock onto my own glistening cock as the audience screams and cheers for you. You refuse to ease up though, continue to edge me more, pressing the heel of your palm over my bulge, palming my sensitive head as my abs start twitching and I squirm uncomfortably. Pained whines start coming from my lips as you torment my spent cock, my sensitive balls bouncing as you do, helpless gasps leaving my lips as the crowd watches you keep me on the edge of pain and pleasure, broken and humiliated. The crowd starts chanting your name, thrilled with the prospect of a new champion they didn't realize they could have. Perhaps they had unknowingly become jaded after watching the same victor over and over, or perhaps they were fed up with the ego I had grown over time, but as soon as the tables started to turn they slowly fell into your palm, just as my balls had. The entire audience was now cheering out for you, egging you on to continue and claim the belt even if you had no intentions of taking it in the first place. The ref had half considered stepping in to count the load I had blown as a submission, but instead watched from a distance, probably enjoying the show after the many times I had yelled at him in the past. "Uuuugh..." I groan, lifting my head up to look at my cock as you mention how sensitive I am, my entire body shuddering as you continue to work it over.
Dadicus
Your voice cracks, a strangled sound that barely escapes your throat, and it makes me grin. I crouch beside your twitching, defeated body, one hand still firm over the source of your shame. Your bulge pulses beneath my palm, spent, sensitive, and aching. Your abs tighten involuntarily with every motion I make your body isn’t yours anymore. It responds to me now. The chants echo around us, the crowd forgetting your name, roaring mine instead. Dadicus. Dadicus. Dadicus. You hear it too. It rings in your ears louder than the pain. Louder than your pride. My hand slowly drags up your torso, over your heaving abs, slick with humiliation. I grab your face and tilt your chin up again, forcing you to see me as my lips crash into yours. Then I slap your bulge, not with malice this time, but a mocking reminder that I still own the tempo. Your body jolts again, another involuntary shudder, and the crowd erupts. Phones flash. You’re the center of the spectacle now, not as a champion but as the conquered. “Let’s give them an ending they’ll never forget,” I murmur, dragging your limp form up by the hair.
Dadicus
Your body’s still twitching when I plant my boot against the mat, grab your arms, and yank you up by the wrists. “You wanted the spotlight, Dylan,” I mutter, dragging your limp body into position. “Let me give it to you.” I hook both your legs over my thighs, one at a time, your chest pulled wide, abs stretched. Then I reach forward, grip your chin... yanking your head back as I lock in the gory special, bending you over my back like a trophy for the gods of humiliation. The crowd explodes. Flashes go off like lightning. Your whole body is suspended, exposed, trembling in my grip. Your cock still leaks over the soaked fabric, your muscles twitch involuntarily, your face red and dazed. I start walking. Each step slow, deliberate. Parading you around the ring like a broken prize. Your arms draped uselessly, your moans soft and pathetic. I let them all see you... your fans, your doubters, the cameras. I pull your jaw up with my fingers again, forcing your mouth into a slack smirk. “Look at him!” I shout. “Center of attention. Just how he likes it.” Then, I twist. My arms unhook, your body whips and twist around over my shoulder BOOM! A devastating powerbomb slams you into the mat, your legs flopping high before crashing down. I drop down, hook your leg tight, my weight pressing into your chest. The ref slides in. “One!” “ONE!” the crowd thunders. “Two!” “TWO!” ...
Dylan O'Brien
You crouch beside me, analyzing me, your hand over my bulge, my source of shame as my body reacts repeatedly to your touch. My cock twitches, my abs tense, my muscles shudder. I barely feel in control of my own actions anymore as you stare down at me, the crowd roaring out your name in support. No longer was Dylan the subject of debate or discussion: it was Dadicus, having completely dethroned the reigning champion easily in the ring and controlling him by the very manhood he proudly displayed without hesitation. Your name echoes in my head louder than the ringing in my ears as your hand drags up my torso, over my abs and chest as you tilt up my chin, locking our lips together while you slap my bulge, a mocking reminder that you're still in control as my body jerks and contorts in pain, shuddering while the audience erupts in cheers again. Phones are flashing, videos are recording, all capturing you as you lock your lips against mine, your hand smacking my bulge, laying claim and conquer over me as they wait for you to finish the show - and so you do.
Dylan O'Brien
You murmur in my ear, dragging my limp body up by my hair as my arms drape, body still twitching as you plant yourself firmly on the mat, yanking my wrists while you taunt me over the spotlight I so craved before. My legs are hooked over your thighs as you give me everything I had craved before, though not in the manner I was hoping to receive. My chest is pulled wide, abs stretched, your hand reaching under my chin as you yank my head back, my body outstretched over your back and suspended in air as you put me on display like a fine piece of art in a museum. My toned, fit body is splayed out in the air for the audience to see, arched over your back, my cock and balls damp in my own shame over the soaked fabric of my ruined trunks. My muscles twitch involuntarily, arms dangling as you continue to lay complete control over me. My face is still red and dazed as my eyes stare out at the crowd that are all cheering you on, once my own supporters as they quickly abandoned ship. Fame was fickle and the fall was fierce.
Dylan O'Brien
You egg the audience on, demanding them all to feast their eyes upon me, center of attention just how I like it. Your fingers pulling my mouth into a lazy smirk, my mind in a daze, humiliation and pain having taken over to put me in a lull. The spotlight trains on me, the shadow of my cock cast on the canvas behind you as I'm stretched over your back. Then, with your final moves, you twist and unhook your arms. My body whips around without hesitation - BOOM! Slamming down on the ground in a devastating powerbomb. My legs flop high for a moment before crashing down, body spread eagle, practically out cold beneath you as you hook my leg tight. Your weight is pressed into my chest, no sound or movement other than involuntary twitches coming from my form as the ref slides in. My cock and vulnerable balls are pulled up next to you as you hold up my leg, the ref's hand slapping the mat. "One!" ONE!" The crowd thundering with applause. "Two!" "TWO!" They count along, the finale coming where the crown is thrown from the king.
Dylan O'Brien
"Three." THREE!" The audience roars with applause, cheering, screaming, snapping pictures as the bell rings out three times, my body now sprawled out in front of you. The ref looks over my still form smugly as he lifts your arm in victory and then steps to the side, leaving you with me in the center of the ring. "And we have a brand new champion! Dethroning the reinging king Dylan... DADICUS! And per Dylan's own, albeit perhaps ironic words, it looks like Dylan now belongs to Dadicus!" The announcer screams out your victory, calling back to my own cocky words earlier where I the winner would own the loser when I had fully believed it'd be me standing as the victor again. The belt and title now yours, along with your newly tamed fuckboy sprawled out in the center of the ring like a trophy as the crowd continues to cheer out, some screaming your name, some screaming for an encore, some screaming for the fallen champ's downfall.
Dadicus
The bell rings. Your body doesn’t move. The crowd counts that final THREE! with thunder in their lungs, and the echo of it rolls through the arena like a storm that just broke the skies wide open. I don’t flinch. I don’t smile. I just stare down at your wrecked body sweat-soaked, limbs sprawled, chest rising and falling with those shallow, humiliated breaths. Your face… stunned, broken, drained of that arrogant fire you strutted in with. The ref lifts my arm. The crowd erupts. “DADICUS! DADICUS!” I don’t look at him. I’m not here for the ref. I’m here for you. I kneel beside you, belt draped over my shoulder, my hand gripping your jaw again, forcing your face up to meet mine. Your eyes flutter open barely. Glazed. Stripped of everything except exhaustion and that haunting realization that you weren’t just beaten… You were taken. “You hear that, Dylan?” I murmur close to your ear. “You gave yourself to me. With your own cocky little challenge.” I tilt your head, letting the lights reflect off the wet stain still darkening your trunks.
Dadicus
“I’m a man of my word,” I say low, standing tall over your used-up body. I drape the title belt across your chest, letting it rest on the rise and fall of your breath. “This… belongs to you now.” Then I smirk. “But I’ll be taking this instead.” I reach down and yank your black trunks clean off, holding them up for the crowd to see. The fans roar. “Anyone got a pen?” I call out, raising a hand without even looking. A guy in the front row eagerly offers one up. I take it, click it, kneel beside you again. Carefully, I grip your arm and scrawl my number along the inside, slow and deliberate. A signature. A brand. “I’ll be waiting on your call, champ,” I murmur right against your lips… before pulling you into one final, rough kiss. Deep. Dominant. Claiming. I stand, toss the marker back to the fan with a nod. “Appreciate it.” Then I turn, leaving your naked, conquered form behind as I step through the ropes... still shirtless, sweaty, victorious, disappearing into the back with your trunks in my pocket and the crowd chanting my name.
~THE END~
Published: 2025-08-08, viewed 270 times.
Apollo Dante
2025-08-11 22:36This stud Dylan O’Brien claims to be a Champion but this was the first time we have seen him on action on here…he obviously wasn’t aware of what Dadicus has done to studs like him since he appeared here! The more cocky his opponents are the more he enjoys torturing and breaking his opponent physically and mentally. HOT action for sure..so pleased you added it here!
Powers
2025-08-11 01:19Overconfident pretty boy. Mmmmm. He showed why he has reason to be cocky, but not against Dadicus. Woof
fury2014
2025-08-09 15:41This is great action , loved every move !!!!!
kingtarzan2003
2025-08-09 13:14great story .. always like the low blows best .
Dadicus
2025-08-09 13:19(In reply to this)
"whispers" Shhhh.. me too... don't want the people to find out ^^
Price
2025-08-09 12:34Gonna put this out there— Cussdaddy knows how to craft a hot story. And Dylan is right there with him. Loved the action, the story line and the hot pics that added more heat to an impressive match up.
Great writing always wins in my book!
Dadicus
2025-08-09 13:17(In reply to this)
TY Price .. bro hug!!! ohh Dylan was really fun to write a story with... I think both of you would be great for a story!
Ayindei
2025-08-08 08:17A remarkable wrestling match. The writing style, the detailed descriptions, the quality of the editing... All of this makes it a rare match that I thoroughly enjoyed. Thank you, friends, for producing such a high-quality story.
Dadicus
2025-08-09 13:17(In reply to this)
TY means a lot!