Master Plan

Michael Roman pops open the cage and Mason Lear crawls out, already hungry. He drops to his knees, tongue dragging over the dirt and shine of Michael’s boots until they gleam with spit. Michael’s foot twitches. He snaps a leash onto Mason’s collar and yanks him across the floor into the next room, metal rattling as he locks the chain to the wall. The first crack of the flogger lands hard. Mason’s voice cracks on “Thank you, Sir!” and keeps breaking with every stripe. When Michael’s arm aches he unzips, feeds his thick cock into Mason’s open mouth, and rams until the boy gags and slobbers down his own chest. Then he spins Mason around, works him open with spit-slick fingers, and when Mason’s hole twitches like it can’t wait another second Michael stands, lines up, and drives the whole length inside. The chain holds. Mason stays steady, taking every thrust until Michael’s balls tighten. Michael yanks free, shoves back into the wet throat, and shoots, thick cream spilling over Mason’s tongue.