You blow your load under the promise of Mac's abuse.

From Create Your Own Story

You grunt as your load spatters against Mac's jeans. He smirks, stepping away from you.

The Daddy and the bear head back into the bar. You swallow, tugging up your pants and underwear, and feeling your nipple burn from the rough twists.

"Let's go." Mac grunts. The two of you walk around to the front of the bar, and you climb into Mac's car.

You're wound up and rock hard in your pants, and Mac grins at you as you do your seatbelt up. The drive to the hotel isn't long - it's a fairly nice place, the kind that has a conference room attached - you remember Mac saying he was here for a conference. You both move quickly through the lobby, and into the elevator. More than a few people glance at the two of you - you realize that shirtless and walking with the big man, you look every bit the whore Mac mistook you for. Near the check-in desk, a handsome, well-dressed man, his attractive, middle-aged wife, and their two children stare at you in shock. However, you can't help notice that the man's boyishly cute, young teenage son -- maybe 14 or 15 at the most -- is staring wide-eyed at Mac, an mistakable look of fear and arousal in his eyes.

As soon as the doors close and Mac presses his floor, Mac grabs you again, his hand sliding down the back of your pants and his finger probing into your hole. You moan, and he covers your mouth with his other hand as his finger pushes into you.

"Fuck," Mac says, his thick eyebrows high with amusement. "I'm gonna break your boy ass wide open."

The doors open, and Mac marches you down the hallway, releasing your butt again as he uses the keycard to open his hotel room door. He opens it and you step in ahead of him, looking around at the decent hotel room. There's a large bed, and a suitcase is on the floor beside it. On top of the suitcase... You blink. You reach down and pick up the belt, which is made of thick black leather. It has a few pouches on it, one of which holds thick strips of plastic that look like oversized bag ties, and has a holster loop inside which there's a long black baton.

You turn around. Mac has stepped inside and closed the door. He stands there with his arms crossed, grinning at you in a lewd way.

"I'm a prison guard," Mac says. "Conference is for prison security. But Daddy always brings his toys."

You can't decide which is hotter - the prison guard thing, the toys, or the the way he just called himself "Daddy."


You say...

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