<Authoritarian, m/m, tpe, humiliation, bondage, feet>
This story is completely fictional and based on my own experiences and fantasies. Feel free to message me your thoughts or questions and encouragements (if you like it), as this is my first time publishing on Nifty! Long time fan, first time author! Don't forget to donate to Nifty to support the site, it's a godsend!
Dom Twink Revenge - Chapter 1
It's difficult coming out later in life. Being in the closet until you're 28 leaves you with very little practical life experience. I've only ever dated girls, never actually even tried to have sex with any of them. Pretending to be christian helped with that plan... Even when they'd try to do a few loopholes I'd chicken out. Push them away. Call them sluts. Break up with them. I was a real charmer.
I knew since I was little I was gay. And not even a respectable top. I was gay with a capital `F,' if you know what I mean. Always liked being around my guy friends more. Always loved when they'd get rough, never knew why until I found porn. Basically lost all my free time from the ages of 14 onward to fucking my own fist. First thing in the morning, last thing at night, a few times in the afternoon if I'm feeling cheeky or bored.
And at first it was only the normal stuff, but being as obsessed as I was, it eventually turned darker. Bondage, humiliation, piss, feet, degradation. Eventually I could only jerk off to truly degenerate stuff.
My mind was so twisted, I think for awhile I needed to separate my desires from myself, you know? Jerk it off like crazy, but then just, pretend I was normal.
So yeah, I'm 28 and have never kissed a guy. Never held hands, said I love you, obviously never had sex. But tonight all of that is going to change! Because tonight, I'm going to my first ever gay bar!
God, sorry, it's just like me to get into the intimate details of my adolescent porn addiction before even introducing myself. Sorry. My name is Lukas, Luke for short. By all accounts I'm pretty average: 6'1", white, dad bod, short brown hair that I never learned how to style any further than wetting it and pushing it back. I'm pretty hairy, even have a pretty impressive beard that I am mostly pretty good about keeping trimmed. I work as a server in a nice restaurant, and I'm trying to save up to take some classes in coding or something. I live with a roommate, a college student who I barely see. I jerk off to his shoes when he leaves them by the front door, but we don't hang out or anything.
So this bar I'm going to, Lucky's. I've heard a lot about it, but obviously never been. It's smaller, on a back alley in my city's gayborhood. It's not really a dancing bar or anything, mostly just locals. There's a piano, apparently. It's perfect because I can't dance for shit, plus I'd probably be super awkward dancing by myself.
By myself, of course, because none of my friends wanted to come with me. All of the guys in my friend group are super straight, masculine dudes. They took it alright when I told them I was gay, clearly shocked them but they were civil about it. The group chat's been a little quiet since then, but it's probably unrelated. Like two of them are parents now, so we're busy.
When I got into Lucky's. The first thing I noticed was the smell. It didn't smell bad (honestly I wish It smelled bad, I LOVE the idea of it being musky or sweaty or something), but rather very smoky? I'm pretty sure you aren't allowed to smoke inside, but clearly that's not stopping some of these queens. Can I say that? I'm pretty sure I can say that.
The walls are red with dark brown wood work. On the left side of the room there's the bar, almost no seat left unoccupied, a piano in the opposite corner, and a few tables. Small, quaint, Perfect for a first toe dip into the lifestyle. Not a lot of places to sit, and there's even a lot of people standing around the edges and such. I'm not really sure what to do, so I make my way straight to the bar and try to get the barkeepers attention. Wedging myself between two elder bears clearly engaging in separate groups, I elbow myself to the hard wood bar top and try to get the attention of the stud serving. He gets to me eventually, seeing to a few twins that I'm fairly certain flagged him down after me, but honestly I'm too nervous right now to even be bothered by that. He asks me what I want, and I stammer out for a beer. A nice masculine drink. A nice normal drink, because I'm a very normal, regular gay person, looking for a nice, normal regular gay person to have regular, plain sex with and take my mediocre and average virginity. Normal.
Cause that's the plan. A nice, normal hook up. Get it out of the way. Lose my virginity, deal with it, then get actually active. Get a boyfriend, fall in love, and eventually, after it's been way too long for them to back out, I'll tell them all of the degenerate, fucked up, twisted things I want them to do to me. Or what I might want to do to them. Sexuality is fluid or something, maybe I'll become a Dom or something.
After I'm handed my beer and leave the payment and a little tip (more than I meant to tip, actually. But he gave a flirty wink when he handed me my bottle and I got hard, so I thought I should thank him properly), ((Oh my god I got hard from a wink, this is too much, I can't do this)) I try to find a table to sit down at and calm my nerves. There's one right next to the piano. It'll be loud, and any guys that come up to flirt with me might have trouble hearing my advances, but it's the only fully empty table. The only alternative would be to walk up to a table with an empty seat and strike up conversation like that, but holy shit I can't do that. So I take the piano table. I make my way over and sit down, take a few swigs of my beer, and take some deep breaths.
Once I feel a little more comfortable, I start taking a look around and assessing my options. My prey. My targets. The guys, the guys at the bar to flirt with, I mean. There's a lot of people just packed into this small room. Let's see, standing by the entrance there's this older daddy type, silver fox dressed all nicely. He's handsome, but I don't know how much stamina he'd have. At the bar there is a large bear giving me the eyes. He has dyed blue hair and, I don't know. Yay pride or whatever, but I just don't think I'm ready to go that queer yet, I guess. In the back corner there's a little group of younger looking guys, but I can't quite make out anyone in specific from my seat. I cock my head a little to try and see better, and I see the boy standing in the center of the group. A Twink. A Twink I know... Oh god, It's Freddie.
Some backstory, I guess. You might have guessed from some context clues that my main friend group growing up weren't the most... Progressive. And hell, I was so deep in the closet in high school, I wasn't gonna take any steps to change them back then. And my buddies, they weren't the kindest individuals either. Some might say we were bullies. And by `some' I mean, well, most of our peers, the teachers, the administration, the cops a few times... We weren't great. My friends really liked messing with people and, if I'm honest, I really liked watching them mess with people. I made me feel a little more normal when I saw how my friends liked to treat people. Because it made how I wanted to be treated feel more commonplace, or something. Plus, sometimes when I hesitated they'd give me a hard time, and that was great. But no matter what I did, no matter how much of a pussy or whatever I was being, nothing they ever did was nearly as bad as how we'd treat Freddie.
See, Freddie was always a Twink. And I don't just mean that like he was skinny. He was always super gay. Super out. Had a lisp and everything. And for guys like us, that basically felt like open season. And I mean, looking back at it now I feel terrible, you know? We made his entire high school life hell. Swirlies, wedgies, humiliating pranks, degrading rituals. Fuck, I'm chuffed up under my table even remembering it. Fuck me, I'm the worst.
The thought crosses my mind to go up and apologize to him. After all, I'm such a fucking hypocrite. Letting my buddies treat him like that for being a fag when a lot of the fucked up suggestions I'd give came straight from the gay porn I was glued to at home. And now here I sit, literally an out gay man, at a gay bar, hoping to get slammed down big style tonight for the first time by a perfect stranger. The least I could do is apologize. But I hesitate. Because, well, if I go up and apologize to him, then probably everyone in this little bar will hear about what a monster I was as a teenager, and probably no one will want to fuck me. Or, you know, talk to me or whatever. Plus, what if he thinks I'm flirting with him? He's cute or whatever, but I don't like twinks at all.
I pull my attention away from the horde surrounding Freddie to look for more options, and that's when I see him. A god among men. My perfect hunk. At least 6'4", skin either perfectly tan or natural caramel, fucking rippling muscles barely contained by a thin black shirt, tattoos peaking from the fabric on the arms, tight black curls on the top of his head but short shaved sides. If I had to guess, maybe some kind of Pacific Islander? Fuck. He's so fucking gorgeous. He's picking up a drink from the bar, looks like a whiskey drink of some kind. Manly. He takes it in his huge ass hand, and begins to walk back, fuck he has an ass that is so fat as he steps. I bet it'd be amazing to have him sat on my face. I keep track of where he's walking, intent on going up and charming his literal pants off, when... Oh god. He's walking up to Freddie. He's walking into the group, they make room for him, he's standing right next to the Twink who I used to torment, and he's... Handing him the glass? This stud was getting a drink for Freddie, and didn't even get himself anything? For real?
Oh my god, I've been staring for too long, I see Freddie look over and meet my eye contact. I think he recognized me based on the look on his face, but I just turned around and pretended not to notice. I'm sure he bought it. Oh well, I guess the hunk is off the table...
Well, that's what I think at least for a few minutes (spent mostly trying to avoid meeting Freddie's gaze again while trying to assess other potential guys in the cramped smokey bar), when out of nowhere the hunk himself walks straight up to my table.
"Is this seat free?" He asks. He sounds softer, more timid than I imagined. Nervous even. I get that, I'm nervous too.
I croak out a "it's all yours," and gesture him towards it. It's at this moment I notice just how sweaty my face feels, and my pits. I wore deodorant (despite myself), so I don't think I stink. But if I were to raise my arms right now, there's about a 900% chance I have sweat circles big enough to see from outer space.
He pulls out the chair and sits across from me at this small table. He smiles timidly, then says something, but I can't hear it over the fucking piano. I smile and laugh awkwardly as I say "I'm sorry what?"
And then he smiles and laughs and repeats himself. "I said my name is Tim. Yours?" He had a sexy accent, but it was still a little hard to hear him.
I try to flash a flirty smile and reply "Lukas. Nice to meet you." I raise my now near empty bottle as a cheers, and realize he is still without a drink, which makes me feel awkward about the cheers-ing, so I quickly follow it up with, "Can I buy you a drink, Tim?"
He smiles and agrees, and I head to the bar and come back with two beers. He graciously takes his and clinks mine.
The conversation is initially incredibly awkward, if I'm honest. And I feel like it's not a one sided awkward, I feel like he's just as uncomfortable as I am, for some reason. I mean, I know I'm not terrible, but I'm also not a greek freaking god like he is, I have way more reasons to be nervous. I think most people might take this as an ego boost but honestly it's just making me panic more. And honestly, it's kind of not hot how little he seems to want to take charge, and his complete lack of confidence. But to be fair, his bicep is as big as my entire head, so maybe I should shut the fuck up and just accept that even boring, vanilla sex with this man would possibly be the hottest thing I could ever actually hope to ever literally have. Plus, I came in here aiming for boring sex, so the worst case scenario is I achieve my god damned goal, so I resolve to get out of my own stupid head about it.
We keep making small talk, the occasional awkward gaps in our banter filled by the loud piano behind us, which facilitate us both doing a brief check in on our phones. I of course have nothing to look at or check, but he seems to keep getting text messages, and I don't want to seem comparably less popular or well liked or social, I guess? He eventually asks if I came here tonight with anyone, and when I say I hadn't, he simply nods, and then he sends another text. And soon after that he looks up to me with a clearly nervous look on his face and he asks, "do you want to come home with me?"
I'm shocked a bit, for some reason I assumed it wouldn't be this easy I guess? I mean, I'm kind of shaking from the nerves a bit and my pits have absolutely drenched down the arm of my shirt and I'm having trouble thinking coherently, but all things considered this was a cake walk. I stammer and stutter a little bit before just nodding my head. He smiles, stands up, and offers me his hand. I take it to stand up and notice two things at the same time: 1) Holy Shit his hand is maybe double the size of mine (and I immediately get a vivid visual of him spanking my bare ass), and 2) his pals are just as sweaty as mine. Sweet.
I stand up and he takes my hand engulfed in his, and walks me out of the bar. When we get outside, we both take a deep breath, and he begins pulling me down the street. I offer to call us an uber, but he shakes his head no and says we `have to walk.' I'm already pretty sweaty, but whatever sure. Don't ruin the mood by complaining, Luke.
As we walk I try to continue our small talk, but he puts a stop to it, harshly changing the topic of conversation to more adult ones...
"When's the last time you had sex, Lukas?" He asked. And I immediately start the chub up again. I blush and stammer around a sentence that is mostly inaudible, and when he looks at me confused I repeat louder, "I'm a virgin."
That's clearly too honest for him and he stops dead in his tracks. I stop too. "That's... That's not a problem, is it?"
He's quiet and he's looking around, not answering. "B-but I'm, I'm really ready to lose it. I'll actually be so normal about it, too. It totally doesn't need to be a thing, I'll even leave right after if you want, or-"
He holds a hand up and says, "I don't know if this is a good idea. Maybe you should just go home." He looks incredibly nervous even just saying that.
But no, fuck no I'm not giving up that easy, so I say, "No please. Please I need it. Please, I really, really want you to fuck me. I need it. Please, I need to be fucked so badly."
I mean, I'm laying it on thick, but I mean it. Honestly. I do need it. And being so clingy and needy, fucking. I'm now fully erect, and the thought that anyone passing by on the street could see my mediocre 5 inch cock tenting my jeans, god that makes it all the hotter.
He's looking at me intensely, and he just says "If you follow me to that apartment, I don't think you'll have a never good time."
I swallow, and try to suppress a moan. I know he probably just means it'll be a mediocre lay or whatever, but it really does sound like almost a threat or a warning, and all my little porn-trained sub instincts are absolutely shivered. I think I even smile a little as I nod. "Please." I add.
He sighs and keeps walking, not waiting for me but clearly not stopping me, so I follow after. His apartment is only about a block further, maybe 3 or 4 blocks total away from the bar. It's a nice building, great neighborhood. We never did talk job stuff, but it makes me think he's loaded.
He walks up to the door and opens up a little digital keypad and inputs some code, then opens the door and offers me to walk in. And I do. Inside there's a nice staircase leading up, pretty standard fare, I ask what floor and he says "all the way up." Which makes me excited. I trudge up the 4 flights of steps and make it to a big, imposing white door with a peep hole and a welcome mat that reads `Go Away' which does make me chuckle.
He opens the door and walks me in. This apartment is nice. There's a nice, open living room and kitchen, with this huge, comfortable couch, a coffee table, a tv mounted on the wall, a fireplace, windows that take up an entire wall, and a book shelf. THere's even a table with only one chair near the kitchen like a makeshift dining room. It was. Nice. I could see one door and each side of the room, clearly a two bedroom apartment set up. Both doors were shut.
As soon as we get in, he begins removing his shirt.
A little shocked, I chuckle "Not even a little light making out on the couch first?" He pauses long enough to look me in the eye and say, "This is you last chance to leave."
Can't believe he's bring this up again. Yeah yeah, consent is sexy, yada yada. But this is too much. I shake my head no and say "I'm not going anywhere."
He sighs again then begins unbuckling his pants. "Then strip. Naked. Socks too."
I'm too horny to argue, and honestly yeah, let's just get right to it, get it right out of the way. Alright, hell yeah. I begin to fumble and attempt to strip, trying half heartedly to strip sexy for him. But after I have my shirt off I notice he wasn't even watching, and that he had already stripped down to his jockstrap (ok, kinky, this is a good sign) and was folding his socks, pants and shirt. He looks up and gestures his head to hurry up, so I just get on with it.
I notice he's keeping his jock on, and waits clearly for me to strip completely nude, which actually is exciting. He reaches out for each article of my outfit as I strip it off so he can fold it too. Once I'm fully nude, I lean in for a kiss, closed my eyes and everything, but all my lips meet is his hand, held up to stop me. He looks a little uncomfortable, which makes me nervous that I already started doing something wrong, but then he gestures for me to follow and leads me to one of the closed bedroom doors.
When he opens it, I almost cum hands free immediately.
It's a dungeon. The hot muscle god has a fully stocked, porn level, red light sex dungeon room. There's a sex swing in the corner, one of those big X shaped crosses, a wall of ropes and cuffs and sex toys and paddles, there's a big black metal dog cage, the works. As he steps in, his energy feels deeply serious. I'm not even covering my cock so he knows just how excited this makes me and how quickly I would have begged him to experience any of this if he had just said it.
He walks in and points to the cross. I open my mouth to ask a question, but he holds up a hand to stop me, and points to the wall, on which I see a bunch of words painted directly onto the wall. Punishment Room Rules' Painted in an imposing black, followed by a bunch of numbered expectations. The very first one reads Speak only when spoken to.'
And, true enough, he hadn't spoken to me. So I just nod and excitedly take my place on the cross. He doesn't even need to tell me to raise my arms or spread my legs, I've seen these used enough times in porn to know how to stand. Feeling him close the leather cuffs around my ankles first was so hot. And it was in that moment I realized that my first time was also going to be kinky as hell, which made me so, so happy. And it made my cock jump feeling him make it as tight as possible. Soon enough I couldn't move either of my feet even an inch.
I offer him my hands too, and feeling the leather close around my wrists is a whole different level. The helplessness, the powerlessness, the vulnerability. Fuck. I know my cock is dripping precut, and all I want to do is reach down with my free hand, my only free limb, and jerk off until I cum ropes and ropes of cum all over this perfect fucking Muscle God. But I don't. I control myself somehow long enough for him to finish with my right wrist and move over to my left. I feel him clap it tight, and know I'm fully bound. Then he walks over to a little bag on the wall of toys, pulls something out, and walks over. I almost ask what it is, but I catch myself. It's hard to keep yourself from talking. He opens his hands and shows me: padlocks. Holy shit. Ok, yeah, fuck. Scary, but sexy. He wants me fully powerless. Fully unable to break out. God yes. Overcome by horniness, I excitedly nod. He doesn't even react, he just locks the cuffs closed with them and takes the keys and puts them back in the bag on the wall across the room. I'm well and truly trapped.
Next thing he does is look over the wall and grab a red ball gag- classic. He walks over and puts it in and clasps it behind my head. Honestly, it hurts my jaw a lot more than I imagined it would, but not in a bad way. He tightens it, then steps back to look me over. The last thing he grabs off the wall in a marker.
This upsets me the most so far, since we didn't establish like, any boundaries or safe words or anything. And that's a permanent marker. If he writes something terrible right on my face, I won't be able to wash it off very easily at all.... Fuck, I can feel myself leaking again. He notices this time too, and I think he rolls his eyes? He then uncaps the marker and goes right to work on my chest. Only a few strokes, and I can't quite tell exactly what, but I think it's a word. In fact, I think I have a pretty good guess which.
And of course, he's ready to prove my suspicion right away, as he reaches back and holds up his phone and takes a picture. Fucking hell, complete violation. Hot as hell that he didn't ask, and I love the idea of him blackmailing me or something crazy like that, but also that's too much and I'll have to ask him to delete that seriously once we're done with this scene. He turns the phone around to show me and.... Jesus Christ. Holy Shit. This is so fucking hot. Right in the center of my chest, nice and big, all capital letters. He wrote FAG.
I moan into my gag and thrust into the air. He smiles at this, then just looks down at his phone and types a bit. I actually notice him turning his sound on, just so the whoosh sound of a sent text is audible to me, which of course immediately makes me panic a bit and squirm. I even try to say something at this point, because that's just completely crossing a line.
He doesn't respond to my loud attempts at talking through the gag, and instead just watches his phone. Eventually I hear the chime of a received message, and he looks up and me (worried?) and looks back at his phone, then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
....Aaaand now my boner is gone and the genuine panic sets in.
I've just been kidnapped. I didn't tell anyone where I was, who I went home with, and I don't even have work tomorrow. This sexy, strong, kinky man could chop me up and turn me into a stew way before anyone even reports me missing. Or a million other possible terrible things. My mind just starts swirling with all the different calamities and nightmare scenarios. Then suddenly I hear the door in the living room open, and heavy foot steps walk in. Someone else. I begin to call for help through the gag, screaming hoping it's a roommate or someone of this kinky, sexy, perfect man who can come save me. Then I hear talking. Mostly a voice I don't think I recognize.
The door to my prison swings open, and Tim is on all fours, and he crawls into the room like a dog. Still in his jock strap, but now wearing a thick black leather collar, padlocked closed. Behind him is a tall, skinny, lanky boyish figure wearing black skinny jeans, a loose, billowy satin like shirt, and quaffed swooping brown hair. Staring at me from the doorway was Freddie.
"Hey there Luke. Long time no see."