In this recently added update from KinkMen, Pierce Paris and his Step-Dad, Dale Savage, are back. Pierce shoves his big hard dick down Dale’s throat, getting it nice and wet and ready for his reluctant asshole. Pierce spanks Dale’s ass with a belt and with his hands and then spreads his cheeks. Pierce sinks his big meaty missile deep into Dale’s hole and fucks him hard and raw.
Click for PAROLE VIOLATOR: PART 2
Available at KinkMen
By Alex Ironrod
PART TWO – 60AD – BRITAIN – IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE
The Roman cavalry Prefect groaned under the weight of the heavy wooden yoke roped across his shoulders; his dirty, sweaty, naked body was still covered with splatters of blood from his murdered partner-slave and from the brutal whipping he had just received from the barbaric Iceni tribesmen who had captured them in the recent battle. Now he was being transferred into the hands of tall, tanned and tough Prince Vertigen, whom he himself had fucked when the Iceni chief had been his prisoner briefly, and who now smiled grimly at Prefect Marcus.
“Your stupid leader’s brutal treatment of Boadicea, my queen, has only served to unite the tribes of Britain against you pig-headed Roman invaders. We want revenge – and I’m going to exact a personal revenge on you for forcing and fucking me in your winter camp. If that’s the way you treat senior prisoners, then let me show you what we can do. Bring that giant oaf decurion with him and drag them over to this corner here.” Marcus was pulled along by the hemp rope round his neck and watched as his assistant was hauled to his feet in chains. The giant Maximus limped badly from a leg wound, which had hamstrung him in the battle.
By CFlex
The former Divide County Deputies weren’t staring at each other for more than a few seconds. Partly out of fear, but mostly out of embarrassment, their eyes broke the stare and began a head to toe visual inventory of each other. This was more than the “sizing up” glance men gave to each other in hundreds of locker rooms everyday. While it was difficult for both of them, Luke Owens was overwhelmed and disgusted by what he had seen and what he was seeing.
And each time their eyes met it was obvious, the eyes never lie. In front of him hung Alan Grant. Grant’s cock still purple and pulsing in its clearer-than-crystal prison. Even though he couldn’t see it from where he was suspended, Luke knew those pulses were happening every time Grant’s ass was tugging on that obscene plug. What put Luke over the edge was the way Grant’s mouth was suckling the cock stuffed into his mouth. Clearly, Grant was enjoying himself! “Fucking faggot!” was the message his eyes were broadcasting.
Grant’s eyes sensed the disdain in Luke’s eyes. With his head now free to move, Grant began shaking his head furiously. His eyes certainly weren’t going to convince Luke that, despite how it looked, he was in agony. Especially from the sensitive area behind the head of his cock which was now ringed with needle-sharp spikes.
By CFlex
Chapter 1 – ‘The Operation Gets Some Visitors’
Jason wasn’t supposed to see what he had seen.
He had gotten shit-faced because it was the weekend and he needed to unwind. Driving was a bad choice but he thought it wouldn’t matter in desolate western North Dakota. Who makes good choices when they’re toasted, anyway? Jason was having fun driving on unpaved back roads in his 2021 Bronco. The dirt and gravel were new to him and at first he had a death-grip on the wheel. Then the alcohol got the best of him. Jason got overconfident.
Jason couldn’t negotiate a well-marked, sharp, left turn and the Bronco’s stability control wasn’t going to save his ass. He went straight ahead and got some air. His pucker-factor was at a 10! He landed on all fours going down a tumbleweed infested slope. Jason was screaming “FUUUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK OF FUCKS!” as he careened down the hill.
The derby-worthy ride ended and the Bronco came to a stop on another road – upright! Jason looked up the path he had just made and was amazed he was alive – let alone conscious! There were blue and red flashing lights coming from just around a bend in the road. FUCK! COPS!
By Pisslurper
I ride a Suzuki GSX-R600. Sportbikes and sportbike riders turn me on. I love nothing more than a hot guy clad in sportbike leathers, especially on a hot day when you know sweat is running down his body, pits and crotch—ripe and ready for licking.
A few years ago I had planned on a summer weekend overnight at buddy’s house in a city about 110 miles from the small town where I lived. This buddy used to be sort of a master for me, but by now our relationship had evolved to more of friends with bondage benefits.
My motorcycle allows no space for gear, just a tiny spot under the seat large enough for a wallet and maybe a toothbrush. So, the plan was for me to wear my leathers with nothing but a jockstrap on underneath, my racing gloves, boots, and full face helmet. I would carry nothing but a wallet in the space under the seat. If needed I could wear some of my buddy’s clothes when I got to his house, but usually I spend all the indoor time either naked or in my jockstrap, and we was planning on going out to the Eagle in our racing leathers. The two hour ride to the city wound through some pretty scenic countryside, so I was looking forward to the day. I planned the route out all on backroads, ’cause interstates pretty much suck, especially on a bike.
By Alex Ironrod
The sound of the chinking spurs and the thud of the barn door told the leather-bound Aggie Jack Thomson that Ranger Brad Steenbeck was back; he jingled his spurs in response. “Wait, boy, while I get things into place,” snapped the ranger. He heard something heavy being pushed into the open space, and then Brad, clad again in tight black leather chaps, high Dehner boots and different western spurs, came into his limited view.
“Right, let’s get my young stallion ready to be finally mastered.” Jack was untied from the post and clumped in his Dehners, enmeshed in leather from harness to chaps and boots, still bound and gagged, to a padded bench, and then forced down on it. His booted and spurred feet were strapped far apart to the bottom corner of the bench, and his body pulled so that his aroused penis slid into a hole cut for the purpose.
Then his wrists were loosened from around his neck and shackled to the opposite corners of the bench. Two straps forced his chest and waist into the leather-like top of the bench, and the reins from the bit gag were shaken loose around his head. Brad walked around, checking the bindings and stroking his butt and the horsehair tail plug growing out of it.
Continue reading An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 3
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
CHAPTER FOUR – THE REVENGE
Colin and I, Jim Barnes, became part of Tyrell’s elite team. I discovered they were highly respected as an efficient and effective law enforcement group, who took no shit. That was why no-one harassed the sergeant, and why he got his pick of new recruits. He’d got it all worked out – cruisers and bikes by day; bikes only by night – which was very unusual. The HP station operated normally in the daytime, with a small office staff and a full complement of officers. At night there was rarely any workers – only in emergencies. Tyrell was in charge; the captains and lieutenants were content to leave it so, as long as there were no complaints. He kept the basement double-locked, claiming it was a workshop with expensive equipment. Indeed it was, but not the type of equipment in a normal workroom.
Colin and I soon got to know the rest of the group. The women office workers were pleasant and efficient; we, and the sergeant, made much of them and we joked and worked well together. The cruiser drivers and the daytime motor officers seemed straight, mainly family men, although at least one had a gloved hand badge. The night shift was smaller and more exclusive. Basically it was four motor officers – Tyrell, Witkowski, Foreman [Colin] and Barnes [me].
By Rubrpig
I woke up stiff and sore from another long hard session with my officers. I was getting used to the hard use and abuse that was their way of enjoying themselves. I swung my legs out of my bed and sat up. My roommate and fellow soldier servant was awake and lying quietly in bed. He had not been used the evening so he had the evening to himself.
I got up and stretched and headed for the showers as I was covered in piss and cum from my officers. I grabbed a towel and walked out of our room and headed for the showers. The other troopers housed on the same floor called to me and asked how things were going. They were not collared like Iain and I were but they were aware of what we were. They no longer showed surprise when we walked by, our heavy collars and chastity devices on display as we walked by then. By now I had met the remaining soldier servants in the barracks.
There were 8 others but they were housed on different floors of the barracks so we only saw each other at special functions where we were supporting our officers, the mess hall or the gym. We all had hard physical training regimes to follow as our officers insisted that we maintain our high level of fitness. As we were the property of the regiment, we had to maintain the regiment’s property to the standards expected by the regiment. As a result, the 10 soldier servants were the fittest of all of the troopers.
