Addicted to a Young Dom

[Cubicw]

Dan is out of town for a business trip looking for some relief. Sitting at a hotel bar, he saw a blinking notification from an app he rarely opened. The profile was sparse: 28. Local. Discipline preferred. Dan doesn’t usually meet anonymous profiles, but he has two weeks of pent-up tension, so he’s at the point that he just wants to get off. He has submissive tendencies but has never played with anyone who is a Dom, let alone a much younger Dom. He got the address and got himself cleaned up, then headed out.

The hotel was a ten-minute cab ride away, a sleek, nondescript tower near the convention center. He paid in cash, a habit leftover from his divorce. The elevator smelled like bleach and something floral, the kind of scent designed to mask deeper stains. His reflection in the mirrored walls looked back at him: salt-and-pepper stubble, the faintest hint of crow's feet. Still fit, but not like he was at thirty. Dan, a middle-aged man in his 40s, was away on a business trip and looking for a way to relieve the stress of the past two weeks. Though not as "ripped" as he was during his college athlete days, he still maintained a nice build.

While sitting at a hotel bar, he noticed a blinking notification from an app he rarely opened. The profile was sparse: 28. Local. Discipline preferred. Dan didn't usually meet anonymous profiles, but the built-up tension was significant enough that he just wanted to get off. Though he had submissive tendencies, he had never played with a Dom, especially one who was much younger. After getting the address, he cleaned himself up and headed out.

Room 1417. The keycard was on the back of the "do not disturb" sign, as he was told. It slipped in his damp palm on the first try. The second time, the light blinked green.

Inside, the curtains were drawn. A single lamp cast long shadows across the bedspread, its synthetic fibers unnaturally smooth under his fingertips. His pulse hammered in his throat. The instructions had been clear: Strip. Blindfold. Kneel. Wait. Simple, except for the way his hands shook as he unbuckled his belt. The leather hissed through the loops.

He folded his clothes, a pointless gesture, but the ritual calmed him. The blindfold was on the floor, black silk with an adjustable strap. It smelled faintly of cedar. He inhaled, exhaled, then pulled it over his eyes. The darkness was immediate, total.

"Sir," he said, then cleared his throat. "I'm ready."

Silence.

Then soft footsteps. Not dress shoes. Sneakers, maybe. Dan held himself perfectly still. A scent that was vaguely familiar, something citrusy. Grapefruit, or bergamot.

Fingers brushed his collarbone. Dan jerked, then forced himself to relax. The touch trailed lower, pausing over his sternum. A thumb pressed into the hollow of his throat.

"Good," said a voice. Young, but not as young as he'd expected. Husky. "You follow directions."

Dan's mouth went dry. He nodded. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he thought it must be his nerves and dismissed the thought.

The thumb pressed harder. "Use your words."

"Yes," Dan managed. "Sir."

“Crawl forward until I tell you to stop.”

The hand withdrew. He began crawling. His soft, hung cock swung between his legs.

“Stop. Turn to your right, but extend your arm out until you feel the bed, then keep your hand on the bed.”

Dan followed the instructions.

"Now," said the voice, closer now, warm breath ghosting over Dan's ear. "Let's see if you can keep that up, but first, open your mouth."

The young man gave him a pill to take and offered him some cold Gatorade.

“Relax.”

Dan took a few seconds to calm himself. This had already gone beyond the level of kink he had experienced before.

“Are you ready?” the young man asked. Dan nodded.

Dan felt the first slap before he heard it, a sharp crack against his left cheek, the sting radiating outward in slow waves. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, knees grinding into the carpet fibers. The pain was bright, almost electric, and beneath it, something hotter uncoiled in his gut.

Fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back. The blindfold shifted slightly, pressing tighter against the bridge of his nose. A thumb dragged across his lower lip—dry at first, then wet with spit. Dan opened his mouth on instinct, and the thumb pushed in, pressing down on his tongue. The taste of salt, faintly metallic.

"Hands behind your back," the voice commanded. Dan obeyed, wrists brushing the small of his back. The click of metal—handcuffs, probably—preceded the cold bite of steel around his flesh. They ratcheted tighter than necessary, the edges pinching.

A knee nudged his thighs apart. Dan spread them wider, the carpet now rough against his inner skin. The air against his exposed flesh was cool, but the room itself felt thicker, heavier—like the walls were leaning in.

The first touch to his cock was almost casual—a single fingertip tracing the vein underneath. Dan hissed, his hips twitching upward. The hand retreated immediately.

"No," the voice chided. A sharp flick to his nipple this time, the pain lancing downward. "You don't move unless I say."

Dan clenched his teeth. Sweat beaded along his spine. The scent of the other man—bergamot, definitely bergamot—mixed with the smell of the sweat of his own arousal.

A palm flattened against his chest, pushing until his shoulders met the bedframe. The edge dug into his scapula.

"Count," the voice said.

The next slap landed harder, the sound echoing off the hotel walls.

"One," Dan gasped.

The third strike came lower, across his ribs.

"Two."

By six, his skin burned, every nerve alight. By eight, his cock was leaking against his stomach. The ninth never came—instead, fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing just shy of too tight.

"Look at you," the voice murmured, almost admiringly. "So eager."

Dan's breath hitched. The pressure eased, then returned, a rhythm now, each release timed to the pounding of his pulse.

"Sir," he choked out.

The grip tightened. "Beg."

Dan's throat worked against the pressure. The word scraped out: "Please."

"Louder." The fingers loosened just enough for him to draw a ragged breath.

"Please, sir." His voice cracked. The blindfold was damp now, sweat or tears, he couldn't tell. The citrus scent intensified as the man leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Dan's ear. "Good boy."

The praise burned hotter than the slaps. Dan shuddered, the handcuffs biting deeper as his muscles tensed. A knee slid between his thighs, nudging them wider still. The carpet fibers scratched his inner thighs, the discomfort sharpening every sensation. Fingers traced the crease where his leg met his groin, slow, teasing, stopping just short of where he ached.

Then he felt teeth. Sharp against his nipple. Dan arched off the floor with a choked noise. The bite turned to suction, the pain bleeding into pleasure. The man's free hand wrapped around Dan's cock, squeezing just once, dry, rough, perfect. Precum smeared across his stomach.

"Look at that," the voice murmured. A thumb swiped through the wetness, then pressed against Dan's lips. He tasted himself, salt and musk. The hand on his throat vanished, replaced by a palm flattening against his chest. "Someone is liking this."

"Stay." The command vibrated through him.

Footsteps retreated.

"Sir, I—" Dan started to feel dizzy and his body warming up, an unusual rush, an urge rising from his stomach that he wasn’t quite sure was going on.

Dan's protest died as the first slap cracked across his ass. The sting radiated outward, settling into a dull throb that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

"Did I say you could speak?"

The voice was closer now, right behind him. Dan swallowed hard, shaking his head. The blindfold slipped slightly, letting in a sliver of light—just enough to make out the vague outline of a dresser, the edge of the bed.

A hand grabbed his hair, forcing his head back.

"Answer properly."

"No, sir."

"Good."

The hand released him, leaving behind a tingling scalp. Fingers traced the curve of his spine, stopping just above the swell of his ass. Dan held his breath.

"Relax."

The touch disappeared.

Then—

The unmistakable sound of a belt buckle coming undone.

Dan's pulse jumped. The anticipation coiled tighter in his gut.

His hands were uncuffed, then he heard, "Hands on the bed. Don't move."

Dan obeyed. The first strike came without warning—leather biting into flesh. Dan gasped, fingers curling into the sheets.

"One," he choked out.

"Very good. A quick learner."

The second landed lower, harder.

"Two."

By five, his skin burned. By seven, his thighs trembled. The eighth never came. Instead, fingers hooked under the blindfold, pulling it off in one sharp motion.

Light flooded his vision. Dan blinked, eyes watering.

And then he saw him through the hotel bed headboard mirror.

Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in nothing but a black jockstrap and a smirk.

Recognition hit like a gut punch.

"Jason?"

The smirk widened. "Hey, Coach."

Dan's stomach dropped. Jason Mercer, star linebacker, class of '16. The kid he'd mentored, the one he'd driven home after practice when his dad was too drunk to pick him up.

The kid who wasn't a kid anymore.

Jason's thumb brushed Dan's lower lip. "Surprise."

Dan opened his mouth, to protest, to ask, but Jason pushed two fingers inside instead, pressing down on his tongue.

"Uh-uh." Jason leaned in, close enough for Dan to smell the spearmint gum on his breath. "No talking."

Dan swallowed around the intrusion, tasting salt and leather.

Jason pulled his fingers free, dragging them down Dan's chin. "Now, where were we?"

His palm landed on Dan's ass, right where the belt had marked him.

Dan hissed.

Jason chuckled. "That's more like it."

The belt slipped between Dan's parted thighs, the leather still warm from its earlier use. Jason dragged it upward slowly, letting the rough underside scrape against his balls before pulling it taut against his perineum, just shy of painful. Dan's breath hitched. His cock twitched, already half-hard again despite the earlier slaps.

Then pressure, Jason leaning in, his erection grinding against Dan's lower back. Heat radiated through the fabric. Dan's mouth watered. He remembered those thighs from the weight room, how Jason would smirk while repping twice what anyone else could.

"Eyes on me." Jason's fingers curled into Dan's hair again, forcing his head back at an awkward angle. The new position made his throat work as Jason traced his Adam's apple with the tip of the belt. "You used to yell at me for slouching during drills. Look at you now."

Dan's pulse hammered against the leather. He couldn't speak, could barely think, with Jason's free hand roaming his chest, tweaking a nipple, pinching just hard enough to make his hips jerk forward. The belt tightened.

Jason hummed. "Still responsive. Good." He released the pressure abruptly, letting the belt fall to the floor with a muffled thud. "Open."

The command registered a second before Jason's cock pressed against his lips, thick as a beer can, already leaking, the musk of it flooding Dan's senses. He opened obediently, letting the head push past his teeth. The taste bloomed bitter-salt across his tongue.

Jason didn't give him time to adjust. One hand still fisted in his hair, the other guiding his hips, Jason began fucking his mouth in slow, deliberate strokes. Dan could hardly open his mouth any wider, and gagged on the third thrust, tears pricking his eyes as the tip hit the back of his throat. Despite the discomfort, Dan wanted it. The rush he felt in his chest felt satisfying by sucking on Jason’s hard cock. His cock hardened and twitched on its own by the thought of it. Jason paused, letting him catch his breath, then pushed deeper.

"Relax your jaw," he murmured, his thumb brushing Dan's cheek where it stretched around his girth. "Yeah. Just like that."

Saliva dripped down Dan's chin. His hand gripped the bedsheet tighter as Jason set a relentless pace, the slap of skin against skin obscene in the quiet room. The stretch burned, but beneath it—God, beneath it—the ache of submission coiled tighter with every thrust.

Jason's grip tightened. "Look at me."

Dan forced his eyes open. Jason's pupils were blown, his lower lip caught between his teeth. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through Dan's gut.

"Remember," Jason panted, his hips stuttering, "when you made me run suicides for mouthing off?" He bottomed out, groaning as Dan's throat fluttered around him. "Bet you regret that now."

Dan's nostrils flared—oxygen deprivation, humiliation, arousal all twisting together. His cock leaked against the bedsheets, untouched. Jason's fingers flexed in his hair, pulling just shy of painful as he withdrew completely. The sudden absence left Dan gasping, spit-slick lips parted.

Jason tapped his cheek with two fingers. "Turn over. Ass up."

Dan rolled onto his back. Jason's knee pinned his thigh before he could complete the motion.

"Try again," Jason murmured, his thumb tracing the hollow of Dan's hipbone. "Slow."

Dan obeyed, the stretch in his muscles obscenely intimate as he presented himself. The air conditioner kicked on, chilling the sweat along his spine. Jason's exhale on Dan’s hole before his tongue swiped upward, broad, wet, deliberate. Dan jerked, his elbows buckling.

Jason chuckled against his skin. "Still ticklish." He spread Dan wider, his thumbs digging into firm flesh, and licked a slow circle around his rim. The drag of his tongue was filthy, unhurried, the kind of teasing that had Dan pushing back shamelessly. Jason rewarded him with a firmer press, the tip of his tongue breaching just enough to make Dan's toes curl.

"Taste yourself," Jason ordered, rising to smear his spit-slick chin against Dan's mouth. The musk of his own arousal flooded Dan's senses—salt, sweat, something deeper. Jason's fingers replaced his tongue, circling lazily. "Next time," he breathed, "I won't be so gentle."

His fingertip breached Dan on the word "gentle," the stretch burning gloriously. Dan arched, the headboard rattling as Jason crooned, "There you go, Coach. Take it." The room was spinning for Dan. Between the burn and the forceful stretch of Jason’s finger, he moaned uncontrollably and wanted more.

Jason's other hand held Dan down while that finger worked deeper, twisting just shy of cruel. Dan turned to the side, buried his face into the bed, his breath hitching as Jason scissored him open, too fast, not enough, then added a second finger alongside the first. The stretch burned white, hot, his rim fluttering around the intrusion. Jason's breath hitched. "Fuck. Still tight."

Dan's cock dripped onto his stomach, untouched. He could feel Jason's gaze tracing the mess he'd made, the silent judgment making his ears burn hotter than the stretch. Jason twisted his wrist, dragging his fingertips along Dan's walls until he gasped—then pulled out entirely. The sudden emptiness left Dan panting.

The bed dipped. Jason's knees bracketed his thighs. "Tell me what you want."

Dan's tongue felt too thick. "You. Inside."

Jason's chuckle vibrated through him. "Yeah?" The first press of his cockhead against Dan's hole stole his breath. Jason leaned over him, chest to back, and nipped his earlobe. "Beg properly."

Dan shuddered. "Please. Fuck me, Jason."

“You sure you can take my thick cock?”

“Yes. Jason. Please.”

Jason slapped Dan across the face. At that moment he could tell how high Dan was. He almost forgot that he had given Dan a good dose of G and a capsule packed full of tina. “Who is Jason?”

“Yes. Sir, Please,” Dan said.

Jason sheathed himself in one brutal thrust. Dan's vision whited out. The stretch bordered on pain, his body struggling to accommodate Jason's thickness. Jason's dick wasn’t even halfway in. Jason applied a generous amount of lube to his dick again and sprayed maximum impact on a rag, then shoved it in Dan’s mouth. “Inhale deep and hold it.”

Dan did as instructed. For the next 30 seconds or so he was completely disoriented. His mind went blank, as if his soul left his body. When he finally slowly regained consciousness, he was surprised to find Jason pounding his ass. Dan could feel his hips slammed against Jason. He had no clue how he managed to take the rest of Jason’s thick, hard, throbbing cock. "Jesus. You feel—” His voice broke. Jason rolled his hips experimentally, pulling a moan from Dan's throat.

"Look at you," Jason murmured, dragging Dan upright by the hair. The new angle made his cock brush something deep, wrenching a punched-out noise from his lungs. Jason's hand wrapped around his throat, thumb pressing his pulse point. "All those years telling me to sit straight," he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, "and now you're taking my cock like this."

Dan's stomach clenched. The slap of skin filled the room, obscenely wet where Jason's balls hit his taint. Jason's free hand palmed Dan's leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts—too rough, too perfect.

"Gonna come inside you," Jason panted, teeth scraping Dan's shoulder. "Just like you taught me—finish what I started." Jason's cock pulsed in Dan. The first pulse hit without ceremony. Jason groaned, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding Dan’s guts in hot, thick waves. Dan felt it—the way Jason’s cock twitched inside him, the way his own body clenched instinctively around it, milking him dry. But Jason didn’t pull out. He stayed, panting against Dan’s shoulder, his grip tightening as his breathing evened out.

Then he moved again.

Dan barely had time to gasp before Jason was on him again—no warning, no easing back in—just the brutal slide of thick, familiar heat splitting him open all over again. The sudden fullness punched the air from his lungs, his body still loose and trembling from the first round. Jason didn’t give him a second to adjust, slamming home with a force that rocked the bedframe against the wall.

"Fuck—thought I was done with you?" Jason’s voice was raw, his hands vise-like on Dan’s hips as he drove into him, each thrust landing with a wet smack. Dan’s vision blurred at the edges, his cock twitching uselessly against his stomach, oversensitive but still hard. The stretch burned differently now—deeper, like Jason was carving a space inside him that wouldn’t close.

The second load came harder, Jason’s teeth sinking into Dan’s shoulder as he came with a ragged curse. This time, Dan felt the spillover—warmth trickling down his thigh, the sheets sticking to his skin. Jason didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. Just kept driving into him, his breath hot against Dan’s neck, his voice rough with something like awe. "One more."

Dan’s protest died in a choked whine. Jason fucked him through the mess, his thrusts turning slick and filthy, the sound obscene in the quiet room. "You take it so good," Jason muttered, almost to himself, as his pace picked up. Dan could only nod, his throat too ruined to speak, his body pliant under Jason’s hands. Jason emptied himself a third time, his groan muffled against Dan’s spine. The room smelled like sex and sweat, the air thick with it. Dan’s legs shook, his hole clenching around nothing as Jason finally pulled out, leaving him wet and wrecked.

Dan obeyed, the salt-bitter taste flooding his tongue as Jason watched, pupils blown. He barely registered the bed shifting until Jason’s weight settled between his legs again—the head of his cock already nudging at Dan’s spent hole.

"No—” Dan’s voice cracked.

Jason didn’t hesitate. He sheathed himself in one smooth thrust, bottoming out with a groan as Dan’s body yielded impossibly again. "Fuck. Still so tight." His hands pinned Dan’s wrists, his hips pistoning with renewed hunger. The overstimulation was electric—Dan arched, his cock twitching dryly as Jason’s thrusts grew erratic, his breath hot against Dan’s throat.

A load shot out of Dan’s untouched dick and some of his cum got on Jason’s face. Jason licked what he could reach with his tongue. Jason growled, his hips grinding as he emptied himself in Dan once more. Dan felt the cum leaking out around the stretch of him. Both of them were exhausted. Dan could not believe his ex-player dom had unloaded in him 4 times in a row. Without being told, Dan said, “Thank you for your load, sir.” It made Jason chuckle, and he said, “Get out of here.”

Dan got dressed and left the room. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion, beneath the ache, something unfamiliar hummed—not regret, not exactly. Want. Raw and gnawing. During his Uber ride back to his hotel, he reached for his phone, fingers trembling. The app was still open. He tapped on Jason’s profile and typed, “When can I serve you again, sir?”

The reply came before he could second-guess it: “Tomorrow. Same place. Don't be late.”

Dan exhaled. His skin throbbed in time with his pulse. He traced a fingertip over the freshest bruise, darkening already, purpling at the edges. The pain was sweet. The anticipation, sweeter.

 

[RawSubDad]

Fantastic fantasy and the kind of fun that drives this 57 year old to hit up 18 & 19 year olds and offering my dedicated service and worshiping.