By Matt Nemo
Aight, picture this: I’m Matt, your everyday NYC grindin’ sub dude, 28, built like a wiry punk with tats snakin’ up my arms and a collar kink that hits harder than a subway rush. Workin’ some dead-end gig in the Village, but nights? That’s when the real party’s poppin’. One Friday, I’m scrollin’ Grindr, horny as hell, when this daddy-type—call him Jax—DMs me: “You look like you need a real man to own that ass. My place. Now. Wear nothin’ but your jock.”
Heart racin’, cock twitchin’, I bolt over to his loft in Chelsea. Door swings open, and bam—Jax is this 6’4″ leather god, beard like a fuckin’ forest, harness huggin’ his ripped chest, eyes drillin’ into me like lasers. “On your knees, boy,” he growls, voice low and gravelly, makin’ my hole clench just hearin’ it. I drop, pavement burnin’ my skin from the walk, but who cares? This is sub heaven.
He circles me slow, boot tappin’ my thigh. “You mine tonight, pup. Safe word’s ‘red’—but I bet you won’t need it.” Grabs my chin, forces my gaze up—his stare’s pure dom fire, meltin’ my brain to mush. Snaps a leather cuff on one wrist, then the other, chainin’ me to his bedpost. I’m spread-eagle, ass up, jock strainin’ against my leakin’ dick. He teases with a flogger—soft at first, whippin’ my back till it’s pink and stingin’, then harder, each crack sendin’ jolts straight to my core. “Beg for it, slut,” he commands, and I’m whimperin’, “Please, Sir, wreck me—own this sub hole!”
Jax chuckles, dark and dirty, lubes up his thick fingers and dives in—stretchin’ me wide, hittin’ that spot that makes stars explode behind my eyes. “Good boy, takin’ it like a champ.” Then the real fun: he straps on this monster dildo, all veiny and brutal, and pounds me relentless—deep thrusts that got me moanin’ like a bitch in heat, sweat slickin’ us both. His hands grip my hips, leavin’ bruises I’ll wear like badges, whisperin’ filthy shit: “You’re my fucktoy now, Matt. Cum when I say.” I’m edgin’ forever, balls achin’, till he flips the switch—lets me blow while he unloads on my back, hot ropes markin’ his territory.
We crash after, him cradlin’ me in that post-scene glow, checkin’ in soft: “You good, boy?” Hell yeah—best sub sesh ever. Woke up collared for real, his scent all over me. That’s my teaser, Jax-style. Full story’s got ropes, electro-play, and a whole weekend of surrender. You in? Hit that email, let’s bond over this kink life.
Metal would like to thank the author, Matt Nemo, for this story and welcome him to the Prison Library!
