Men in Control
Men in control of my imagination.
Men in Control
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lessthanaman:

Beautiful. Just fuckin beautiful. Intense knotting.
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buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
buffskruffnskin:

No Such Thang As 2 Big  buffskruffnskin.tumblr.com
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dominatedmen:

Teen Wolf - Derek is tired of Stiles’ wimpy ass. He cant make a wolf out of him but he sure as hell can make a bitch out of him.
dominatedmen:

Teen Wolf - Derek is tired of Stiles’ wimpy ass. He cant make a wolf out of him but he sure as hell can make a bitch out of him.
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lunersea:

Get on your knees boy.  It’s time to worship. 
lunersea:

Get on your knees boy.  It’s time to worship. 
lunersea:

Get on your knees boy.  It’s time to worship. 
lunersea:

Get on your knees boy.  It’s time to worship. 
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rileylouis:

Persian
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withalowercaseb:

The reality of daily life is that we cannot live out our roles completely, the way we’d like to.
For one, we don’t live together. He and I have been together for three years now, but the truth is that we’re both successful, busy people, we live independent lives. We each have our own flat at opposite ends of town. He’s away for work a lot, sometimes for stretches of several weeks. Consequently, through necessity, we have an open relationship. Even though we’ve both acknowledged that sex only truly works for each of us when the dynamic is right - and the dynamic between he and I is just that - the reality is that sometimes you just need to scratch an itch. He’ll get on Grindr and have some lad up to his hotel room to fuck while he’s away, and I’ll occasionally find a Top on Recon to come over and split me open. But that kind of sex is perfunctory, meaningless. Which is why it doesn’t upset the balance between us.
That’s where the holidays come in.
Every six months or so we book a cottage somewhere in the UK - last time it was Wales, but we’ve also done Scotland, and even just locally in the countryside of Cambrideshire - and have a holiday living together as Daddy and boy. It’s the thing we both need most; to fully live out those roles, completely and wholly, hence the choice of destination. We don’t need beaches, foreign climates, we don’t even really need the sun. What we need is to experience living together domestically as we’d like to do permanently one day.
We send each other links to cottages we’ve liked the look of on various websites and eventually we agree on one and one of us books it. And then the date is set. Ten days or two weeks together as Dad and boy.
The day rolls round. He comes to pick me up at my flat. I am fully packed and ready, I have made all the necessary preparations: My bodyhair gone, all my jockstraps washed and packed. I am wearing little boyish shorts, trainers with the socks pulled up, a small t-shirt. He arrives wearing the Man’s clothes: a shirt with a sweater over the top, jeans and shoes. He is clean shaven. (At this point I’ll mention that I have a beard and he is clean shaven. One might think that the opposite should be the case, but the reality is that these days that’s not so. Facial “scruff” belongs to young lads now, the Men are still shaving. Simply go out in Shoreditch on a Saturday night and you’ll see all the young twenty-somethings sporting facial hair, while the real men know the importance of being clean shaven, a level of cleanliness that commands respect and “means business”).
The first stage, before we do anything - even kiss - is to lock me up. It is important that this is done before we commence anything else, that from the moment we set off my cock is gone, out of the picture, that I am his babyboy. He has the chastity device ready. He enters my place and we each smile at the effort the other has made. He’s the epitome of Man; tall, broad, clean, smartly dressed; he steps towards me with a powerful stride. He tells me I am the cutest boy that ever lived, that once my cock is done away with I’ll be perfect. I lower my shorts for him and he scoops me out of the pouch of my jockstrap swiftly. Needless to say I don’t experience anything - my cock has been shrivelled and atrophied for as long as I can remember. He fixes the device on with the efficiency of a medical procedure and then pulls the fabric of the jock back over it.
"There we are baby, you’re good to go," he says, smiling deeply. I pull my shorts back up. He pats me on the bum. I have to reach up to meet his kiss; he is almost a full head taller than me and his heeled shoes have added another inch.
"These your cases babyboy?" he asks, gesturing my two small cases by the bed.
"Yes Daddy," I reply. He lifts them both and gestures that I go ahead. I lock up the flat. We get in the car and off we go.
And that’s that. We live out the next ten days as we’d like to live our lives together permanently. He is the Man, I am his boy. It sounds fetishistic but I can assure you, it doesn’t feel it. All it feels is natural. I suppose if you changed the terminology to “Man and wife” it might make more sense to some, appear more “normal”. While I am not feminised - there is certainly no cross dressing or anything like that - it is a relationship where there is only one Man and that is him. There is only one set of Male genitalia in the bedroom. Being the Man also extends to being the protector, all his natural paternal feelings come to the fore, hence the leaning towards “Dad”. And of course, he is in charge. That doesn’t mean to say I become a doormat. I am still free to exert my opinions but the last word is his. I can choose a restaurant for us to dine in but if he deems it too expensive we will not go. Being the Dad also comes with the practicality of mind; I am always spending more money than I have and he reels me in.
As I said, the holiday is primarily about just enjoying living our lives as Daddy and boy. That is the focus. So a lot of it is just spent indoors. If he sits on the sofa I’ll sit on a pillow on the floor, between his legs, cuddling his giant thighs and nestling into his groin while we simply chat and have a cup of tea. Just domestic stuff. We’ll make love several times a day and my pussy will quickly come to the point where it just doesn’t close anymore. He’ll spend extended periods eating it, though not nearly as much time as I’ll spend sucking him. We’ll wile away entire afternoons reading with me between his thick parted legs, lazily nibbling and sucking on his cock and balls while we each lose ourselves in our respective books. Every now and then his desire will get the better of him and he’ll tell me to put my book down and drain him. In these instances I do not even finish my paragraph.
Of course we do play at some fetishistic stuff. If I am to go out without him - one instance was my popping to the Sainsbury’s in the town eight miles along to buy meat while he got the fire for a barbecure going back at the cottage - he’ll make sure he brands me before I am allowed to leave.
"Baby, the Men out there will be on you like panthers, look at you," - he gestures to my clothes, the shorts that cling to my buttocks, my hairless legs. "On your knees."
I kneel before him, just inside the front door. He stands over me and swifly beats out a load. A minute later he is coating my face in thick cum ropes. He ignores the accompanying orgasm as this is not sex, it is purporting to another function. I am being marked for my safety and protection. When he is finished he rubs it into my skin, coating every inch of my face. I catch myself in the mirror. My face glistens.
"Ok baby boy, you can go."
And I have to say, walking around Sainsbury’s, my pussy gaping under my shorts and my face branded - molded and modelled by him - I feel so loved and I beam with pride. I do not waste a single minute. I am desperate to get home to him.
To anyone troubled at my renouncement of my cock: I have as many orgasms as he gives me. Over half the times we make love I will climax, my ejaculate obviously still comes from the front but that is not where the sensation of the orgasm resides anymore, it is merely the pipe through which the fluid passes. My pussy spasms repeatedly, my whole body tenses up as if I was having a seizure, my skin is covered in fire, every other sense - even sight - is temporarily eclipsed and for that moment I become pure sensation, writhing in agony underneath him, at his mercy. It wrings his climax from him and my insides flood, his ejaculate - twenty times that of my own - filling me, entering my blood stream, nourishing me down to the very cells which now crave it like they crave water. He collapses on top of me and his weight pins me in place, I can do nothing but lay under him, the last thing I feel as I lose consciousness is his member slippng out of my loose hole, flooded as it is, skating across my soaked buttocks and resting between my open legs. We sleep for twenty minutes or so, utterly spent.
Does it still trouble you now?
We return to London and resume our lives. The cock cage comes off - the reality is that I might not see him for over a week now. The memory of the holiday is fresh and we each feel invigorated.
And, of course, one day it will become permanent.
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withalowercaseb:

"Ok baby, we’re gonna fast-track you to Pussyboy. I know some argue that a gradual transition will result in more stability but I can see you’ve got the potential babyboy. So we’re gonna do in five days what others will do over six months. You with me?"
"Yes."
"Good boy. So here’s how it’s gonna go down. We need to take a week off work. How soon can you do that baby?"
"I have leave to use up actually. I can probably do it a week from Monday."
"Perfect. So, we’ll spend the week indoors, we won’t even be leaving the house. I’ll lock your cock up at the start. Then five times a day you’ll lay on your back and receive a thousand strokes. We’ll count together. Don’t worry about me cumming, I can hold it off indefinitely. The important thing is that you understand that with each thrust you become less of a man, each stroke of my cock inside you turns your asshole further into a cunt.
"The last stroke of the last day - that’s the twenty-five-thousandth stroke of my cock going into your cunt - it will be fully transformed. It will have turned into a cunt and from that moment on will function as such.
"Now baby, it’s not gonna be easy, but you need to be strong. We’re working on it together, we share the same goal. I’m literally gonna be on top of you and pounding like a machine and we’ll just be counting together, fucking your asshole into a cunt. Ignore any pain. Just focus on your transition. Every stroke is one further away from manhood and one further towards pussyboydom. Feel yourself changing.
"Now, on top of this, 80% of your nutritional intake will be spunk. You know that chest freezer in the cellar? Remember you asked me about it when I sent you down to get the wine? Inside it is ten litre jars of spunk. I’ve saved every load over the last year. I cum heavily, so they filled up remarkably quickly. Each evening before bed we’ll take another two out to thaw and then you’ll start each day with my cum for breakfast. I’ll spoon feed it to you. We’ll have lunch together, and then your evening meal will be cum. Two litres of it a day. You skin, bones, teeth - everything - will start to shine with the radiance of my juice, you’ll literally start to glow with the nourishment of my loins. The very cells of your body will start to crave it.
"And that’s it. In five short days you’ll experience the complete transition. Manhood will feel like a distant memory and you’ll suddenly be conscious of your sex organ, now relocated to the back. We can take the cage off and you’ll relish at how your dick is lifeless, doesn’t even stir. You’ll look down at it and merely see a little tube for urinating, one simple bodily function, nothing else.
"And then we can go out and celebrate. You can wear something nice for me, something tight around your transformed posterior, aand we’ll order Champagne to celebrate. Sound good?"
"I wish we could start today!"
He chuckled.
"Attaboy, your attitude is spot on. I have a feeling you’ll have no trouble at all. Next Monday then. Let’s make the calls now."
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withalowercaseb:

Sometimes you’ll need to hide your cock and balls so a straight man will fuck you. It may hurt like hell, squeezing them between your thighs to keep them concealed, but he’ll see your cunt and his innate urge to breed will kick in. Remember, to most straight men, “Any hole’s a goal.” Hold your position, relish the opportuniy to use your cunt, remember each thrust is an affirmation that you are a born pussyboy.
When he has finished do not let your position slip. Make sure the last sight he has is your cunt - and only your cunt - raw and gaping from his invasion, dripping with his seed. Tell him he can come back next time his girlfriend has her period, that your cunt is always available, his whenever he needs it. Know that he will be back.
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