No Way Out

Matt Skyler knelt in the dim room, blindfolded and trembling with anticipation. Travis Wade had selected him as the most desirable butthole among the slaves— a non-sexual honor, but one that set his pulse racing. Now, alone, he waited on his knees for the promised surprise. The door creaked open. Jeff Palmer stepped in, his erect cock thrusting boldly through the open fly of his pants, thick and unyielding. Matt surrendered completely, a puppet in Jeff's firm grip. Jeff led him like a dirty little pig, yanking the leash with casual dominance. He lifted Matt effortlessly, twisted his lithe body, and folded him into obscene fuck positions—legs splayed wide, ass arched high, every muscle straining under the command. 'Hold this up,' Jeff growled, shoving a large cooking pot into Matt's hands. Golden piss streamed from Jeff's cock, filling the pot with a sharp, acrid warmth that splashed against the metal sides. Jeff struck a match, lit a thick candle, and tilted it. Hot wax cascaded in slow, searing drops over Matt's quivering legs, tracing fiery paths down his back and pooling on the curve of his butt, each splatter a delicious sting that made him gasp. The torment built until Matt shattered, unloading ropes of cum across Jeff's gleaming high black boots. He dropped to lick them clean, tongue lapping eagerly at the sticky mess, savoring the salty blend of his own release and polished leather. Jeff gripped his shaft, pumped once, twice, and erupted—dumping his hot load in thick, creamy spurts all over Matt's upturned face, marking him with the evidence of utter submission.