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I was born in the late 80s so I don't remember those times, but I have seen changes. There's a lot more talk about sub and dom, even guys are asking me which one am I like you have to be one of them. But it's not really my thing. I can be rough or let another guy be rough with me, but I don't turn it on and off as part of my everyday way of being. Usually with guys I meet things are more mutual and whatever energy we find happens naturally. But that can be rough, I recently met a guy about my size who handled me rougher than I expected. I was growling and really wanted to give him a kick, but he was hot and doing a good job so I was also growling and swearing because I was annoyed I was enjoying it. Interesting energy between us. I don't think I've become a sub now though, it was just something that happened. It's the trying to create situations that seems to be more popular now. The thing is it doesn't feel so natural for me when you're trying to make it happen.

I agree with those who say that they welcome pain as a result of the top/Dom taking their pleasure. It feels good to be conquered. I’ve been watching CBT videos where doms stick needles through subs’ testicles. Maybe that should happen to me.

I’ve posted this photo of my Puerto Rican husband’s beautiful 7 UC African black dick all over BZ. Can you imagine when he is going to fuck me he wants to cover it with a condom, even though he thinks I’m monogamous and hiv negative? Ha ha. Maybe he suspects? Besides as I said in another post the more methwhore I become = bareback only, full poz loads.

Have I already posted in here? I don't rember. @shannon-o-feral.bsky.social

It's supposed to hurt Isn't it????? Don't feel right unless it DOES!

Since I was 14 I still remember out of the sudden I felt the urge to stick something inside me ... now it's been 10 years but still I never slept with any guy since I am not in a country where this normal...

Hi, Just a simple question about adding reaction. Maybe I am not authorized, maybe not, maybe I need glasses...I do not know. But I tried to find out how to add reaction on posts without success. I am able to review the ones added by other users, but I have no idea on how to add mine. No visible button, nothing. I am using a desktop browser. Can someone give me a clue ? 😉 Thank you in advance for helping me 😉 Have a nice day

no one gets in with a condom not in 45 years poz to prove it

I'd rather eat another man's cum out of my ass after being fucked

Not sure where this belongs. I've recently gained my first Follower. Am new here. One of his qualities is that he's a versatile bottom. What is a versatile bottom? Am I a versatile bottom? I like to suck cock (lots), I like having my cock sucked. I've fucked and only been fucked once but I want it more. I just don't want to be a dumpground for guy's cum.

I'm at 3 weeks. Have gone 2 months. I serve better when i'm hungry. A proper ass whipping is better than any orgasm to relieve my stress. And if i do cum it should only be from a good ass fucking. If i was owned I would expect to be caged and locked to keep a proper mindset to serve when TOLD.

Hmm, so you're singing in front of one (coach). Perhaps for one session you can have someone come to listen; and more slowly get used to a group listening to you?

I've seen the topic asking with who and when we lost our virginity and I start thinking what is virginity? Many people say it's the first time you have sex, but I don't agree. What if it was a not very fun fumble when you were a teenager and nobody even cum, does that count? You can drive through a city and say "I've been there" but that's not what people mean when they ask if you've been there, they mean have you seen the sights, have you explored the place. And I'm a bi man so I have my straight virginity and my gay virginity, and there's first time top and bottom when you're a guy. Even for straight guys there's top and bottom virginity because women can use toys in you. My anal virginity was the biggest and last one for me, it's a big thing for me to share that. The first guy to put his dick inside me felt good, but he only did it for a few strokes. He was all about him being a bottom. I think my first proper time was when I was with a guy I really wanted inside me and he did it for a long time. He recharged fast and fucked me multiple times. Feeling him throbbing inside me I had my first prostate orgasm. That experience felt like the real thing. Still, he wore a condom the whole time. Even then I'd never fully felt a dick inside me. That happened later when I finally tried it with a guy bare. I wanted him a lot and I felt empty of him before he even went inside. I didn't even feel tight, and I'm often nervous to bottom. He just went in smoothly like his space was reserved. I had a couple of prostate orgasms as he fucked me missionary, we kissed and I wrapped my legs around him and played with his hairy nuts as he stroked in me. Finally he filled me with his cum. Feeling his dick throbbing a hot load inside me was when I was certain I'd totally lost my anal virginity. It was like the last bit. I guess that was when I'd properly 'been there' and had the full and real experience. I think these two guys are the guys I lost my anal virginity with because I had my first orgasm with one and my first bare fuck/load with the other. But I want to know what you think, what for you counts and what doesn't? Is it just the first guy you did something with, or is it something else?

[think before following links] https://lthrbtmboi.gay/semen-samples/ This is so hot! Ive cum twice in the last 30 minutes.

lucky you. that story is amazingly hot except for it not finishing. assuming the author doesnt want chapter 4 posted here...

Fuckin’☣️ Oink~!Bro🐖☣️

I hear the door closing, the final click reverberating through the silent room, and my heart stutters in my chest like it's trying to break free. The sound seems to echo in the emptiness, a stark reminder of my utter solitude. The stickiness of their cum is a warm, uncomfortable presence on my thighs, a slow-moving river of their conquest that trickles down to my knees. Each drop feels like a taunt, a silent declaration of what they've done to me. My eyes strain in the pitch black, desperately seeking any semblance of light. The darkness is thick, a suffocating blanket that wraps around me, making me feel smaller and more vulnerable than ever. The room is so silent that even my shallow breaths seem to bounce off the walls, returning to me as a muffled echo. The only other sound is the occasional drip of their fluids from my body, a sticky reminder of the depraved act that's just concluded. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex and the faint metallic tang of the chastity cage that now holds my shrunken member captive. As I struggle to regain my composure, the ache in my ass and the heaviness of the buttplug serve as unwelcome souvenirs of the relentless pounding I've just endured. The leather straps dig into my skin, a constant reminder that I'm still bound to this fuckbench, a helpless plaything at the mercy of Manuela and her shemale coven. The fabric of the lingerie feels alien against my skin, clinging to the sticky mess that coats me from their abuse. The blond wig itches, a stark contrast to the smoothness that once was my shaved scalp. Exhaustion slowly begins to win the battle over panic, and I feel my eyelids growing heavy. Despite my best efforts to stay alert, I start to slip into the welcoming embrace of oblivion. The world fades to black, and for a brief moment, I'm free from the horror of my new reality. But the respite is fleeting, as a sudden jolt of pain from the chastity cage snaps me back to consciousness. It feels tighter now, a cruel reminder of the power they wield over me. The metal seems to pulse in time with my heartbeat, a rhythmic throb that sends waves of discomfort through my groin. As my vision adjusts to the dimness, I notice a faint light piercing the darkness. It's a beacon of hope, a lifeline that pulls me back from the brink of despair. Gradually, the light grows stronger, and I squint through the glow to see the silhouette of Manuela standing before me. She's dressed now in a classy but tight dress, one that hugs her voluptuous curves and accentuates her powerful, feminine presence. The light casts an ethereal glow around her, making her appear both angelic and demonic. She's like a vision of beauty wrapped in the cloak of a predator, and I can't help but feel a mix of fear and arousal as she approaches. Manuela leans in, her full lips curving into a wicked smirk. "I knew you would be a nice bitch," she purrs, her voice a seductive whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. Her eyes gleam with a sadistic delight, and she runs a long, red-nailed finger over the cage that now defines my manhood. "Me and my friends really liked abusing your ass," she continues, her gaze lingering on my exposed, vulnerable form, "so I think my guests will do the same." With surprising strength, she releases the buckles and the leather straps fall away from my wrists and ankles. The sudden freedom sends a bolt of pain through my limbs, but I'm too scared to move, too stunned by what she's said. The fuckbench beneath me is sticky with lust, and my legs tremble as I attempt to stand. The chastity cage is cold against my skin, a stark reminder of my new role as their party favor. "Come now," Manuela commands, her voice a siren's song that fills the room with a dark allure. She grabs my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. They're pools of fire, sparkling with excitement and anticipation. "You're going to be the star of the show," she whispers, and for a moment, I almost believe her. "Everyone's waiting for the grand entrance of our little sissy slut." A sense of dread washes over me as she says this, my body going rigid with fear. The idea of being paraded around her party, a living sex toy for their amusement, is too much to bear. But before I can protest, she kicks me squarely between the legs, her stiletto heel digging into the flesh just above the chastity cage. I scream, the pain immediate and intense, and it echoes through the room. She laughs, a sound that's both beautiful and terrifying. "Don't worry, darling," she says, her voice like a knife slicing through my protests, "You'll get used to it. In fact, I think you're going to love it." The room starts to spin as she grabs my arm, hoisting me to my wobbly feet. The buttplug inside me feels like a brand, a declaration of ownership that makes me want to scream and beg for mercy. But the pain is nothing compared to the horror that awaits outside the door. I know that the moment it opens, my fate as their plaything will be sealed. As she pulls me along, my legs feel like they're made of jelly, barely capable of supporting my weight. The lingerie clings to me, the lace scraping against my skin with every step, a constant reminder of my humiliation. The high heels she's forced me to wear make it impossible to walk without a wobble, adding to the sense of vulnerability that already consumes me. We ascend the stairs, the cold stone beneath the soles of the shoes a stark contrast to the warmth that's still spreading from my ass. Each step is a battle, the chastity cage biting into my tender flesh with every movement. The pain is a constant companion, a grim reminder of the powerlessness that has been thrust upon me. The entrance hall is vast and opulent, with a grand chandelier casting a warm glow that seems to mock my current state. The walls are lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors, their eyes seemingly judging me as I stumble past, a mere shadow of the man I once was. The sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses reaches us from a nearby room, growing louder with each step we take. The anticipation in the air is palpable, a heady mix of excitement and dread. Manuela's grip on my arm tightens, guiding me towards the source of the commotion. She pulls out a shiny red ballgag from a drawer in the hall table, and I feel a cold sweat break out on my forehead. "One final touch before we enter," she says, her voice dripping with a sadistic glee. She fastens the strap around my head, the ball filling my mouth and cutting off any hope of protest. The leather is cool against my tongue, and the taste of leather and something faintly metallic fills my senses. With a dramatic flourish, she opens the double doors to the grand living room, and the sound of the party hits me like a wall. The room is alive with the murmur of voices, the laughter of the depraved, and the throb of a bass that vibrates through the floorboards. I stumble behind her on the leash, the high heels making it impossible to keep up without wobbling. The crowd's gaze swings to us, and a hush falls over the room like a dark curtain. Their eyes devour me, a feast of lust and amusement. I'm on display, a humiliated spectacle for their entertainment. The leather bites into my neck as Manuela tugs the leash, leading me through the throng of partygoers. They're dressed in a masquerade of desire, their masks hiding identities but not their hunger. Some whisper crude suggestions, others reach out to grope my bound body, and I can do nothing but whimper into the ballgag. We reach the back of the room, and she pulls me through a narrow archway into a smaller chamber. The air here is hot and heavy, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the faint aroma of candles and incense. My eyes widen in horror as I see the fuckbench, its gleaming chrome a beacon of my impending degradation. The bench is situated in the center of the room, surrounded by velvet curtains that have been drawn back to reveal a wall of glass. On the other side, the living room is a sea of faces, all watching me with eager anticipation. "You see, my dear," Manuela says, her voice a velvety purr in my ear, "You're going to be the entertainment for the evening. Everyone wants a taste of our little slut." Her hand is firm as she pushes me over the fuckbench, my stomach and chest pressing against the cool leather. She secures my wrists and ankles with practiced ease, the metal cuffs snapping into place with a finality that sends a cold shiver down my spine. I'm immobilized, unable to do anything but accept my fate. The leather straps dig into my skin, reminding me of my vulnerability, my body laid bare and exposed for the pleasure of these strangers. Manuela picks up a blindfold, a wicked glint in her eye as she drapes it over my head. The room goes dark again, the only sensation the tightness of the fabric around my eyes. She whispers in my ear, her breath hot and sweet, "You will enjoy this, or you will pretend to enjoy this. If not, the punishment will be far worse than you can imagine." The threat is clear, and my heart races in response. The anticipation is almost unbearable, my mind racing with the horrors that might await me if I fail to perform. Then, a sudden coldness at my arm, a pinprick of pain, and I feel a warmth spreading through my veins. She's injected me with something, and I know it's not going to be a sedative to ease my suffering. No, this is something to keep me on edge, something to ensure I'm fully aware of every touch, every sensation, every violation. "Here's some Tina," she says, her voice a sultry purr, "It'll keep you nice and energetic for the festivities." The drug hits me like a wave, my fear morphing into a desperate, animalistic need for release. My cock strains against the pink cage, begging for attention, my body betraying me as it responds to the cocktail of chemicals coursing through me. The room seems to pulse with the bass from the party, the anticipation thickening like a fog around me. I can feel the eyes of the crowd outside the glass, hungry for what's to come. Manuela's voice, now amplified, fills the air, a siren's call in Portuguese that sends a shiver down my spine. Her words are lost in the haze of the language, but the tone is unmistakable. She's announcing my arrival, setting the stage for the night's main attraction. The murmur of the partygoers grows to a crescendo, and I know that they're waiting for me, eager to see what their hostess has in store for them. With a flick of her wrist, she switches to English, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she declares, "The sissyslut is now ready to be used." The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, their excitement palpable even through the glass that separates us. The sound of footsteps grows closer, the clack of heels on the marble floor a prelude to the symphony of debauchery that's about to unfold. I feel hands on my ass, the cool touch of latex-covered fingers sending a jolt through my body. The drug she's administered is working its magic, my senses heightened to a painful degree. And then, without warning, the buttplug is yanked out of me, the sudden emptiness making me gasp around the ballgag. The sound echoes through the chamber, and I feel the room spin around me, my legs threatening to give way. But before I can process the pain, I feel something else at my entrance, something thick and insistent. A cock, a real cock, pressing against the stretched and bruised opening. I try to tense up, to resist, but my body has other ideas. The cage around my dick feels like it's shrinking, the pressure building to an unbearable point. With a firm push, the cock breaches my ring of muscle, and I moan into the ballgag, the sound muffled but no less real. The intrusion is a shock to my system, sending waves of pain and pleasure crashing through me. The plastic of the chastity cage is sticky with precum, a testament to the arousal that's been forced upon me, and I feel the shaft of the cock sliding in, inch by inch, filling me up. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of agony and ecstasy that lights up every nerve ending. The crowd's laughter and taunts blend into a cacophony of sound, a backdrop to the rhythmic pounding that's started in my ass. Each thrust is a declaration of their power over me, a reminder that I'm nothing but a hole for their amusement. I can feel the head of the cock slamming against my prostate, sending bolts of pleasure-pain through my body. My eyes roll back into my head, and I bite down on the gag, the leather tasting salty with my own fear. The cock inside me is unyielding, a steel rod that claims my ass as its personal playground. The chastity cage feels like a vice, trapping my desperate erection, forcing it to pulse in time with the relentless fucking. Each stroke is a blend of agony and arousal, a confusing symphony that makes me want to both beg for mercy and plead for more. I can't tell if the sounds of approval are coming from the room beyond the glass or if they're just echoes in my own mind, a twisted form of encouragement that fuels the monster inside me. The cheers of the crowd outside the chamber grow louder, a crescendo of depraved voices that seem to be urging the guy to go harder, deeper. "The slut deserves it," they chant, their words piercing the veil of my thoughts, making me acutely aware of my role in this twisted play. And in a bizarre twist of fate, I feel a perverse thrill at the thought of being desired, of being the object of their lust. The ballgag in my mouth muffles my own whimpers, turning them into a series of wet, gagged moans that only serve to excite the onlookers more. The cock inside me doesn't let up, the pace quickening with a ferocity that leaves me gasping for air. The guy fucking me is relentless, his hips slapping against my bruised ass with a rhythm that's almost musical. He's not just using me; he's claiming me, marking me as his property for the duration of the party. And as much as I want to hate it, my traitorous body responds, my muscles tightening around the invading shaft, drawing him in even deeper. Suddenly, the pace reaches a crescendo, and I feel his cock swell, the head slamming against my prostate with a force that steals my breath away. He grunts, his hips jerking erratically, and then it hits me—his cum. It's a hot, sticky mess that fills me up, mingling with the cum of the shemales who came before him. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it's impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. He pulls out with a wet pop, leaving me feeling empty and used, a gaping hole that's been filled and emptied too many times to count. But the emptiness is fleeting, because almost immediately, I feel something new pressing against me, the blunt head of another cock seeking entry into my violated ass. The grip on the chastity cage tightens, and I know it's someone else, eager to claim their turn with the sissy slut on display. This one is thicker, the head a mushroom that stretches me wider than I thought possible. The audience outside the glass roars with approval as the newcomer starts to fuck me, their cheers and jeers spurring him on. The sensation is intense, the size and girth of this stranger's cock making the previous one feel almost gentle in comparison. He doesn't bother with any kind of foreplay, just rams into me with a force that makes the fuckbench shake. The pain is a crescendo that builds with each thrust, my ass feeling like it's being split in two. The leather of the bench is sticky with lubricant, sweat, and cum, providing a slick surface for his relentless pounding. The drug in my system amplifies everything, turning each sensation into a symphony of pain and pleasure that plays havoc with my sanity. The newcomer's grip on the chastity cage is cruel, twisting it slightly with each thrust, sending jolts of pain shooting through my groin. It's a reminder that no matter how much I might want to get hard, it's impossible. The plastic cage is a constant pressure, a taunting presence that keeps me from finding any relief. The cheers from the audience outside the glass room grow louder, a chorus of debauchery that seems to encourage the guy fucking me to go harder, faster. He grunts and swears in a language I don't understand, his hips a blur of motion as he takes his pleasure from my ravaged hole. The pain is intense, each stroke pushing me closer to the edge of what I think I can handle. Yet, there's something else there too, a dark thrill that makes my heart race and my breath come in gasps. The room spins around me, the only anchor the cold chrome beneath my cheek and the heat of the cock inside me. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, he releases his load into my bowels. The sensation of his hot cum filling me up is almost too much to bear, and I cry out around the gag, the sound lost in the cacophony of the party. He pulls out, and for a brief moment, I feel relief—until the next one steps up. The crowd's cheers grow louder, the anticipation in the air thick with lust and malice. This one is even bigger than the last, the head of his cock nudging at my gaping hole with a determination that sends a shiver down my spine. The hands on the chastity cage tighten again, and I brace myself for the onslaught. He doesn't bother with gentle easing; he simply rams his way inside me, the force making me choke on the ballgag. The pain is intense, a white-hot agony that sets my nerves alight. I'm nothing but a receptacle for their lust, a living sex doll to be used and discarded. And yet, even amidst the pain, there's a dark thrill. The helplessness, the utter lack of control, it's a heady aphrodisiac that makes me wetter than I ever thought possible. My body is a canvas of sensation, each stroke painting a picture of degradation and pleasure. The crowd's chanting reaches a fever pitch, the rhythm of their applause syncing with the pounding of cocks into my ass. It's a symphony of debauchery, a chorus of sin that crescendos with every grunt and moan. The new guy starts to fuck me, his thick, unyielding cock stretching me to the brink of pain. Each thrust feels like a declaration of victory, a triumph over my dwindling dignity. I can't help but moan around the ballgag, the leather pressing against my teeth as my jaw goes slack from the overwhelming sensations. He's rough, his hands digging into my hips as he pulls me back onto him with a ferocity that's both terrifying and exhilarating. The sound of his skin slapping against mine echoes in the chamber, a primal beat that joins the cacophony of the party. My body quivers with each new invasion, my muscles stretched to the limit. The chastity cage feels like a brand, a constant reminder that my cock is useless, trapped and unable to satisfy the desperate need that's building within me. The ache in my balls is a dull throb that underscores every sensation, a reminder of the humiliation I'm enduring. The crowd outside the glass can see everything, my desperation, my pain, my unwilling arousal, and they cheer and jeer in response. The men come and go, a never-ending procession of cocks that claim me as their own. They don't bother with names, just grunts and growls, the universal language of lust and power. Each one takes his fill, pumping his cum deep into me before moving aside for the next. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by the slick sounds of lube and the occasional wet slap of a hand connecting with my ass. The smell of sex is thick in the air, a potent mix of sweat, cum, and lust that makes my head spin. After what feels like an eternity, I hear Manuela's voice, a sweet reprieve amidst the chaos. "Small break after this one," she calls out, her tone mockingly cheerful. The man behind me grunts in response, his hips slowing before coming to a sudden stop. The cock inside me pulses, and I feel the hot flood of his cum fill me up once more. He pulls out with a wet, sucking sound, and for a brief, sweet moment, my ass feels empty, the pain of his exit almost welcome. Manuela's hand is gentle as she removes the ballgag, allowing me to take a deep, gasping breath. The taste of leather and fear is replaced by the scent of her perfume, a heady bouquet that seems to intoxicate me even more. "Drink," she whispers in my ear, and I eagerly take the straw she holds to my lips. The cool liquid is a balm to my dry throat, and I gulp it down greedily. It's a sweet, fruity concoction, but I know better than to hope for a reprieve. As the last drops slip down my throat, she puts back the ballgag and administers another dose of the drug, the coldness of the needle a stark contrast to the heat of my body. The Tina races through my veins, and I feel my cock pulse in the chastity cage, desperate for release. The pressure builds, the need for an orgasm so intense it feels like my body is going to tear apart at the seams. The next cock presses against my already-stretched ass, and I gasp around the gag. It's a smaller one, but no less insistent, pushing into me with a gentle force that soon turns into a steady rhythm. This one is more considerate, his strokes measured and deliberate, almost tender. The crowd's cheers are distant, my world narrowed down to the fuckbench and the man behind me, the sound of his hips slapping against my ass. Manuela's heels click on the marble floor as she circles the bench, her hand tracing a line down my spine. "Look at you, taking it like a champ," she murmurs, the admiration in her voice a strange comfort amidst the pain. Her fingers dance over my skin, and despite the horror of my situation, I can't help but shiver at her touch. It's as if she's marking her territory, reminding me who's in charge. The man behind me starts to pick up the pace, his cock sliding in and out with an ease that's almost soothing. Each stroke sends waves of sensation crashing through me, a mix of pain and pleasure that I'm starting to crave. My ass feels like it's on fire, the ache a constant presence that seems to grow with each new round of abuse. Yet, even as I want to beg for it to stop, I find myself pushing back, silently begging for more. He reaches around, his hand finding the chastity cage that holds my cock captive. He squeezes, the pressure making me gasp around the gag. His grip tightens, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the cage, and I feel a bolt of electricity shoot through me. It's a tease, a promise of what could be if only I were allowed to get hard. My hips buck, trying to grind against his hand, desperate for any kind of relief. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, he cums inside me, the hot spurts of his release filling me up once more. He pulls out, and for a moment, the cool air against my exposed ass provides a brief respite from the relentless pounding. But the reprieve is short-lived, as I feel another cock nudging against my sore, abused opening. The anticipation is unbearable, my body taut with tension. The crowd outside the glass room has gone wild, their cheers and catcalls a symphony of depravity that seems to fuel the men as they take their turns with me. This one is different, though—his touch is almost tender, his cock sliding into me with a gentle insistence that belies the roughness of the previous men. The cum of his predecessors runs down my legs, a sticky trail of humiliation that marks me as used. Yet, even amidst the pain and degradation, there's a strange comfort in the sensation of his cock moving within me. The cage around my balls feels tight, each pulse of his dick sending a fresh wave of agony through me. I'm trapped in a cycle of pain and pleasure, my body a plaything for these strangers' whims. Manuela's voice fills the room, her words a symphony of degradation and praise. "Look at our little bicha," she says in Portuguese, the word for "slut" rolling off her tongue like a caress. "Taking it so well, aren't you?" Her words cut through the haze of pain, sending a shiver down my spine. She's enjoying this, watching me be used like a common whore, and the realization sends a fresh jolt of arousal through my system. The man inside me starts to pick up the pace, his strokes growing more erratic, more urgent. His breathing is ragged, his grip on my hips tightening as he fucks me with an almost desperate need. The sound of his hips slapping against my ass fills the room, a rhythmic punctuation to the moans and grunts of the other partygoers. The chastity cage feels like it's shrinking, the pressure around my cock and balls increasing with each thrust. And just as I think I can't take any more, he cums with a guttural roar, his hot seed filling me up until I feel like I might burst. He pulls out, and the sudden emptiness is almost a relief—until the next one takes his place. The cock sliding into me now is thick and veiny, the man behind it groaning with pleasure as he sinks into my tight, used hole. The cycle begins anew, each thrust sending fresh waves of pain and pleasure crashing through me. The room is a blur of bodies and sounds, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Each cock feels different, each man claiming me with a ferocity that seems to fuel their desire. They're animals in heat, their hunger for my sissy body insatiable. The only constant is the cold, unforgiving steel of the chastity cage, a reminder that no matter how much I'm used, no matter how much I'm filled, I'm denied any kind of release. As one man pulls out with a grunt of satisfaction, Manuela's hand is there, stroking my sweat-slicked skin. "Good boy," she croons, her voice a sweet symphony of sadism. "You're doing so well." She administers another shot of Tina, the warmth spreading through my veins like liquid fire. The pain sharpens, the pleasure intensifies, and my body feels like it's on the brink of snapping. The next cock is immediately upon me, plunging into my abused hole without preamble. The crowd's chanting reaches a fever pitch, their excitement fueling my own. The fucking is relentless, a never-ending parade of cocks claiming me, using me, filling me with their hot, sticky cum. I'm lost in a haze of sensation, my thoughts reduced to a single, desperate mantra: "Please, no more, please, yes, more." Each man who takes his turn is different, yet the same in their hunger for my body. Some are rough, others almost gentle, but all of them leave me feeling more used and degraded than the last. The chastity cage is a constant presence, a painful reminder of my subjugation. The only respite comes when Manuela steps in, her cool hand on my feverish skin, administering another dose of Tina. It's a moment of almost sweet agony as the drug courses through me, heightening every sensation. As the party rages on, the frequency of the men claiming me starts to wane. My ass feels like it's been turned inside out, my body a playground for their lust. Each new cock is a fresh assault on my senses, pushing me closer to the brink of a climax that never comes. The ballgag in my mouth is slick with drool, my jaw aching from the strain. But even amidst the pain, I crave the feeling of being filled, the pressure on my prostate that sends jolts of pleasure through my body. The last cock inside me pulls out with a wet pop, and for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. The room is quiet, save for the distant sounds of the partygoers, their cheers and laughter muffled by the thick glass walls. I'm left there, trembling and exposed, cum dripping from my stretched hole and running down the insides of my thighs. The chastity cage feels like a brand, a constant reminder of my role as a mere fucktoy. And then, the sweet relief of silence is shattered by the sound of Manuela's heels clicking against the floor as she approaches. "Good night, my bicha," she purrs, the words sending a shiver down my spine. Her hand caresses my cheek, a gentle touch that seems almost tender. I can feel her hot breath against my skin as she leans in, the scent of her perfume mixing with the musky aroma of the room. "You've been a very good boy." Her voice is like a lullaby, soothing and yet filled with a sinister undertone that sends a shiver through my body. The partygoers have had their fun, leaving me a trembling, cum-soaked mess, and now she's here to bid me farewell. The weight of the chastity cage feels like a thousand pounds, a constant reminder of the humiliation and degradation I've endured. The ballgag is sticky with drool, the taste of leather and fear a constant presence in my mouth. As Manuela's footsteps fade away, the only sound that remains is the steady drip of cum from my abused hole. The fuckbench beneath me is cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth that was once there. The room is eerily silent, the muffled sounds of the party outside the glass walls a distant echo of the depravity that just occurred. The ache in my body is a symphony of pain, each muscle screaming out in protest, my ass feeling like it's been ravaged by a pack of wild animals. My mind starts to drift, the edges of consciousness blurring together. The drug-induced haze is wearing off, leaving me with the bitter taste of reality. I'm alone now, the only witness to my own degradation. The bench beneath me seems to vibrate with the ghosts of the men who've claimed me, their echoing grunts and growls a testament to my submission. My body feels like it's on fire, the pain a living entity that feeds on my suffering. And yet, amidst the pain and despair, there's something else. A warmth that spreads through me, a glow of arousal that refuses to be extinguished. Each time I think it's gone, it flares back to life, a stubborn ember that won't be snuffed out. It's a perverse thrill, a twisted sense of pride that I've been able to withstand this much. The chastity cage feels like a medal of dishonor, a symbol of the sissy slut I've become. My thoughts drift to Manuela, her touch a phantom caress that lingers on my skin. Her words echo in my mind, a sweet poison that fuels my dark desires. "Good night, my bicha," she'd said, her voice a siren's song that promises more torment. I don't know if I'll ever see her again, but the memory of her dominance will be etched in my soul forever. As the last of the partygoers leave, their footsteps fading into the night, my body feels heavy, my muscles limp from overuse. The chastity cage is a cruel reminder of the evening's events, the tightness around my cock and balls a constant throb of painful pleasure. The cum inside me starts to cool, a thick, sticky mess that marks my complete surrender. The room feels empty without their hands, their cocks, their sounds of satisfaction. The only company now is the cold, hard bench beneath me and the echo of my own ragged breaths. My body begs for rest, the ache in my ass a testament to the relentless pounding it endured. The Tina still hums in my veins, but the high is giving way to exhaustion, the thrill of the night's debauchery slowly fading into the background. My eyes grow heavy, each blink taking more effort than the last. The weight of the chastity cage seems to increase with every passing moment, a leaden reminder of my enslavement. The room spins as sleep starts to claim me, the pain in my body a distant throb that's almost soothing in its familiarity. The fuckbench cradles me, a twisted lover that's taken all that I have to give. And than i drift off in a restless sleep.

@arvadabtm

great profile on x bro....

I’m at 360. I’ve been very naughty My love to the dosens of guys who have squatted upon my face … eaten cream-pies.. piss…dirty enemas…me tied up and sniffing poppers