A hairy rugby player gets tied up at BreederFuckers

BreederFuckers 01

A happy hetero couple Sean and Judith come into doctor Adrian’s office at BreederFuckers asking for advice because Sean has been sleepwalking naked. His subconscious must be seeking something that his dull little wife can’t give him. Getting a good look at the hairy rugby player, Adrian quickly prescribes bumming treatment. Sean is bent over a table with his arms tied in place so he can’t go wandering off. With his pert ass pointed out his jeans and pants are removed to show off his ripe virgin bum. The befuddled man feels something hard and sharp inserted right up his rectum. His asshole is torn into right in front of his startled wife while he pleads for the men to stop. Dave gags him with his cock teaching him how to suck it properly. The lad is overwhelmed being done at both ends and can do nothing to stop the men from unloading their semen onto him. With his face dripping with sperm he looks at his wife as he’s now been thoroughly ruined.

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To see more, visit BreederFuckers

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 10

Chapter 10: The Pit’s Veto 

Cards Burn – Echoes Grip

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, steel thick.

Leo sprawled, boots wide, Ryan’s leash slack, clip swaying. Ryan knelt, cuffed, “Yes, Sir” echoing.

He read it slow, jaw tightening – voice low, grit fraying “Don the blindfold, reach into the pit’s forsaken pile – pluck a discarded dare or punishment and bend to its will. Perhaps the shadows favor you, slipping a gold reward through the dark to lift you high. Refuse, and the red bag spits two punishments to claim your soul” – BLIND OR BLEED – stamped in white.

His gut twisted – boots rooted, card shaking in his grip. Nine lashes tore me apart – butt’s still sore from that cane. Ryan’s clamps, 10 pounds, screamed ‘til they bled. Leo’s weights, 2.5 on his balls, he groaned through it. Jamie’s hoist and shred – naked, trembling in his briefs. Fuck – I’m fucked either way. His mind raced – I could play my final veto card, but then I’d pull not 1 but 2 punishments. But there’s one reward card… could I get lucky and pick that? His eyes darted to the table – cards sneering, “Nine lashes, bare back” half-buried, “Nipple clamps, 10 pounds” peeking, “20 pounds by your balls” glinting cold – his cage pulsed, leash slackening, doubt clawing like a wave pulling back. One veto – Burn it, pit’s death; do it, I’m done.

Continue reading The Pit’s Grip – Part 10

Forced pony play

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Master Shamus is in the BrutalTops stable, waiting for a pony ride around the exercise area. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. New pony boy James isn’t ready, quickly undressing when ordered to do so by Shamus, getting down on all fours. This ride had better be excellent or the thick leather belt in the Top’s hand will be getting plenty of use today.

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The strong, muscular looking pony soon tires, attempts by Shamus to get it to move faster by beating it are futile as it becomes more exhausted with every circuit. The pony’s rump glows red from the severe beating Master Shamus is giving it. It’s clear the Top is going to ride this useless little fucker into the ground.

To see more, go to Brutal Tops

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 09

Chapter 9: The Pit’s Leash 

Surf Commands – Pride Falls

By Restrained4U

The dungeon pulsed, sweat thick.

Leo sank, Carrera locked – nine’s ache under welts, eyes dim. Marcus sprawled shirtless; jeans tight.

Jamie perched, briefs wet, envy sparking. Ryan loomed – leather pants, harness vest, boots thudding, crop in boot, cap shading a smirk.

Ryan drew a card, jaw ticking, “Each player rolls one die – highest claims your service ‘til next turn – or yield to punishment.” He flicked it – SERVE OR SINK – gut lurching (They roll? Marcus’d carve me, Jamie’s wild, Leo’s soft – easy).

“Roll,” he snarled, pride braced.

Marcus tossed a 5. “Five – could own you.”

Jamie flicked a 3. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Leo rolled slow – 6 rattled. “Six…” he rasped, shocked.

Marcus laughed. “Wave-boy’s got you – sick twist.”

Leo stood, cage snug, chest swelling – six flipping the script (Fuck this – I’m not their rag).

Continue reading The Pit’s Grip – Part 09