Tapped

Hello Sexies! It’s been a while, but I have actually been working on my book. I should write more and perhaps include non-fiction as a part of regular updates to the blog. If you read, do you care? 
Here is a quickie, wrote in a more quiet stylized style. I was in the mood for a touch of dramatic, and a pinch of poetry. Please if you like, tell me. Comment here or lovingly stalk me on Twitter. –Nick aka Apollodark 


I watched him walk across the street with two other men. He was shorter than them and a different kind of pretty. I had no doubt he was family. He stopped outside the door while the other two continued in. Out of his jacket pocket came a pack of cigarettes, boxed, longs. He tapped them on the base of his hand, three hard taps before pulling out a black cigarette. He had a Zippo of course. I imagined I could hear the metal flip open and the flame light and bristle in the soft breeze.

He leaned his head back and revealed a hard jaw set with fashionable stubble. I lifted my hand to my face. I was clean shaven, soft and young man fresh. I took a sip of my espresso, never taking my eyes off of him. He took a drag of his cigarette then turned as the wind pushed smoke back into his face. That’s when he noticed me.

He smiled at me. I smiled back. He took another drag of his smoke letting the wind push the misty swirls past him. He exhaled slowly, pursing his lips. Suddenly, that cigarette looked like something else.
He put it to his lips and let them circle the filter. He sucked in deeply, chest heaving outward then slowly back in. The cherry burned brightly before fading. He smiled at me and I got up, tossing my coffee in the trash as I walked past patio flowers.

As soon as my foot hit the main street, he started to toss his cigarette aside. I shook my head no and he held it out to me when I reached him. I took his wrist and guided the cigarette to my mouth and held it there as I sucked in. I heard him suck in as well. I dropped his hand. He let go of the smoke and crushed it with his steel toed boot.

He smiled again and held up his finger. Wait. I could wait.

I stood still as he walked over to the window and waved in catching his friends’ attention. He waved goodbye and I could see their eyebrows go up. He nodded toward me and they nodded understanding. 
My dark haired stud walked back in the direction I had come, past the café and into the back parking lot. He led me to cars parked among bushes. It was there he took me in his arms and kissed me. It was there his hands traveled over my shoulders and down my back.

He tugged at my belt and dropped to his knees and took me in his mouth before I could remember to breathe. I leaned my head back at the sensation. He gripped my ass and pulled me to him. My soft cock hardened in his mouth, grew as he gripped the base of it and sucked on the head and slowly took me in.
Warm, soft, wet, the grasp of his lips, the suction of his mouth….I trembled then moved my hips, pushing my cock down his throat and grabbing his head. He moaned and dug his fingernails into my ass. I gasped sharply and pumped my hips. He sucked harder, moved to my rhythm and picked up the pace when my fingers tightened in his hair.

“Fuck.” I said quietly thinking it echoed throughout the city. I stopped moving, looked around, sudden panic gripped me. But he didn’t stop, he didn’t let go. He pounded his mouth over my cock, sliding his tongue up and down. My cock screamed at me to settle down. I screamed back for a split second, but then the cock head touched the back of his throat and I could feel his muscles press against it. I let go, and slammed my cock hard down his throat again and again. I heard him gurgle and choke in protest. The sound egged me on. Fucking choke fag, choke on my fucking cock!

I’d have said if we were alone, if some part of me knew that I could scream and no one hear it. But not here, not in the darkening twilight evening, not when the cold trapped every sound and sent it crashing into everyone’s ears.

“Fuck.” I whispered it again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Need built up quickly so quickly I almost stumbled. He held me still and ate my cock while I shudder. He took me whole, ravenous with his own want. I leaned back, and h e pushed me against a car. I felt the cold metal on my ass. His head bobbed faster, he sucked more powerfully as though he could siphon gold right out of me, white gold, ivory spun on his tongue…

The car moved to our rhythm, slightly squealing in delight and pushing me back up to meet my stud’s hungry mouth.

My breathing was rapid, short, a staccato of air as whatever me drifted back and left the primal self clawing to cum, begging with tightened muscles and pounding hips. I want to come! I need to fucking cum! And I will fucking rip your face a part to do it!!!

I grunted as I shot my load, grunted as I pounded into the stud’s face willing to let him die as long as my I got my way. I shuddered again and again as I felt my cum spurt out in chunky gobs of satisfaction…

He kept on my stud, suckling at what was left. I fell back against the metal, shallow breathes, slowing to deep satisfied sighs.

The stud stood up, wiped his lips and grinned at me. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, boxed, longs. He tapped it on my stomach three times. Stuck a cigarette in my mouth,  lit it  up and walked away, bristling like fire. –Nick Anderson
© 2012

Stacia

This is not X-rated, but worth the read if you play the game. 

I took her into the back room, the one across from the master suite. I hadn’t been alone with her in a while and I could sense her excitement. She walked hurriedly as if she couldn’t wait to get inside the other room.

I walked slowly behind her, making her wait for my entrance. I stepped inside making sure my boots echoed in the almost empty space. She was kneeling as I had told her, slave style, legs spread, palms up on thighs.

I looked around the room, trying to decide what I’d wanted to do. I really had no idea. She wanted a beating. I wanted to get off. The two usually went hand in hand.

There are days I feel the need to be creative. Other days I clearly don’t give a fuck about style or finesse. Today, I had no idea because what my puppycunt didn’t know was of my sense of not being here, of  floating into this room.  My mind was on something else, late night dreams of blood and lust. I tried to shake the sensation,but it wouldn't leave me. I gave Stacia what focus I had. I could have blood and lust right here.

“Want to bleed today, cunt?” My voice was low, almost a growl. I smiled wickedly. She thought it was for her, but I was surprised at the way I sounded and what I’d said. I had said the shit before, but I usually had an idea what beast was clawing to get out of me.

‘If it pleases you, Master.”

Of course.

I walked slowly to her, looking into her eyes. She dropped them almost instantly, but not quickly enough. It was subtle indication that she didn’t want to bleed. She didn’t want a rough ride, not that rough. My poor little Stacia, so caught up in pleasing me. Could she deny me anything? If I wanted to rip her to pieces would she let me? A toe? Would the cunt give me that?

I stood behind her and took a deep breath. I could feel the violence rise inside of me. I had to ask who was this for? Who was I mad at? Who was I going to give that anger to?

I knelt behind her and grabbed a fistful of her hair. I pulled her back into a sharp arch, she gasped and I had to smile at such a beautiful sound. “Eyes closed. They stay that way.” I didn’t need to finish the sentence. I didn’t need to promise pain or punishment. They are a given.

Then I simply left the room. I went back into mine and sat on the edge of the bed. She’d think it was a part of the game. She’d think I was wanting her mind to race. It would be. It was. I knew she was in there letting anticipation eat her inside out. It’d be more fun if that were my intent. It wasn’t.

I sat for a while, gathering myself and my thoughts. My mind was racing. I couldn’t take hold of anything, but story after story of things needing to be written, pieces of my existence strewn over pages.

I used to write, when I was young, but then I stopped because I needed my hands to move. I need to dig into clay or feel the stroke of the brush. I needed my hands to do something besides cause pain. That was what I was made for, right? I was raised to be a machine, to follow orders, to prepare for battle, to win or to die while taking the enemy with me.

I’m such a fucking failure because I am no where close to what he wanted me to be. No, what he needed me to be, my Father, the warrior. I am an artist who plays with tied up girls. Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly…

I walked back in and knelt in front of my most beautiful slave. I pressed my lips against hers. They were full and lush, moist, soft and my tongue slipped between them. I cradled her head and kissed her deeply. She sighed into me, but I sensed the disappointment. I felt her muscles relax, give up, give way to the whim she really didn’t want displayed.

I hate you for that Stacia. I hate you for not letting me be weak. I hate you for demanding I always be a monster to you. Fucking take my kindness, fucking accept it, fucking love it. Be a fucking god-damned good slave and do what I want you to.

I released her as the anger took me. “Cunt, stop it.”

“Master?”

“You’re doing it again. Do as I say.”

“I am.”

“No you’re not. The moment you don’t get what you want you’re a limp fish. You take all the fire out of it.”

“Master, that’s not true.”

“Open your eyes and tell me what you wanted me to fucking do.”

She opened them and she didn’t speak. This is not unusual. Slaves often lose their tongues when speaking to their masters. “Speak or get flayed.” I paused because that’s what she really wanted. “I don’t mean in the way you like.”

Fuck, it was fucking hard to punish her, she likes pain like no other sub I’ve ever known. I can make her fly, but make her hate it? She’d hate it while it was happening, but the moment I stopped she’d be in heaven. I could take her to hell, rake her across coals and skin her alive and I think she’d like it.

“I wanted you to beat me.”

That was close to honest. “And?”

“I wanted you to fuck me.”

“Just beat and fuck you and walk away.” I raised a brow.

“Yes, Master.”

“So, you liked my soft kiss?”

Silence. She wanted to say no, but found it hard to.

“Honesty, cunt.”

“No, Master I did not.”

“Then what would you have liked.”

“I wanted you to slap me, hurt me, bite me, kiss me hard…” Her voice trailed off.

“Ah, I see. You didn’t get what you wanted so you decided not to give me your best.”

“That’s not true!!!” She screamed; she never screams at me. “I am not a bad slave!!!!!”

“And you determine that?”

Silence.

“Who decides when a slave is good or bad?”

“You do, Master.”

“Who decides when a slave is pleasing?”

“You do, Master.”

“Who decides if they want it soft or rough?”

“You do, Master.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, if I want to hit you with feathers I may do so?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So, I have your permission now?”

“Master, I…I wasn’t… I mean……” she couldn’t finish the sentence. I was right and she knew it.

“You are to give your best at all times. You are to accept the pleasure I want to give when I give it. If I want to kiss you gently, I will. If I want to kiss you hard I will. I do not want any slave I own repulsed by my kindness. Be fucking disappointed that you’re not getting what you want, but you will fucking give your all because you know god-damned well you eventually get what you fucking want.”

She nodded.

“Pull this shit again Stacia and I will rethink our agreement.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Kiss my feet and go.”

She bent lower, kissed my boots and got up to leave.

I gripped the whip in my hands until my knuckles went white. I wanted to beat the fuck out of her.I wanted to let out all of the rage, but this was my part in unlearning the fucked up relationship we created. I had to stop falling for it and giving in to it and I had to sit here and find another way to let it all fucking go. –Nick Anderson 10-21-2012

 

© 2012

Folsom Street 2012

He's got moves.

When I planned to go to Folsom Street Fair months ago, I knew I wasn't going to be attending any parties. I had other obligations to meet and it was going to be in and out, very much like a booty call. So, sometime at the start of the spring I marked my calender for September 28^th, 2012 and set my eye on that. Summer hit hard and then started its transition out, a slow transition, but I can't complain. It's been a really mild California summer.

On the first of September I made arrangements and made sure that I had the 28^th totally free of obligation. I managed to get that from the hours of 8am to 5pm. I rock!!!!! I go along and listen to the hype. Pre and Post Party invites are being strewn all over the web and I think nothing of it because I'm not going to go to any of them.

The middle of September comes and I'm uncertain about going. All kinds of shit is happening and I'm not sure if I'll even be able to go. But I figure it should all clear up by the 28^th and better, it's fucking PAY DAY!! Awesome right?

For those of you paying attention and for those of you who went, you know something's not quite right about my scheduling. You're right but at the time I had no clue until well, 2 days before.

My friends are talking about it. They are going on about parties they'll be going to and so on. One of them is bitching about a play partner canceling and he's talking about things like they are happening in a couple of days. I pay no attention at all. Drama Queen, right?

Sweet.

The 21tr slides in and I'm home sick, like super fucking sick. It came out of nowhere and I was put through gastrointestinal hell and lost 3 pounds in 24 hours. It was not a pleasant day and night. My shining light? I lost 3 pounds and Folsom isn't until NEXT weekend! But oh shit, my Dad's birthday is on the 23^rd, better send a card, make sure I call.

That was me around 2pm on Friday the 21^st. Master texts me about 2 pm.

“Folsom is this Sunday.”

My response.... “What?”

Is that the stupidest response ever? I pay no attention to his sarcastic reply; I'd have done the same. I go to the official website. My eyes go wide. WTF? You have to be god-damned kidding me!! NO! I freak out for 196 seconds then go vomit. (It seemed like the thing to do.) I clean myself up and then call EVERYONE to rearrange all of my arrangements. This pisses me off to no end because I never fucking plan and the one time I do, it's all shot to fucking hell. Whatevs, but fuck me I got shit taken care of and Master and I were going to drive a chick. Sunday saved by 5pm Friday.

Saturday happens. We're going shopping for...can't remember but it seemed important. We're so happy that I don't even realize it's hot then...THEN the fan on my van blows. No let me rephrase that. It doesn't blow and I can't fucking drive the van cuz it keeps overheating and eating my battery.

I wanted to ask how much he charges.

Yes, dead transportation. In California you might as well be stranded with out a car. So, we decide we're not going. Then I am sad. Then the coffee pot spews all over my counter. I'm extra sad now. The “thens” keep piling but I'm cool and start my verbal montage: Folsom Street Fair Sucks Anyway. In HD no less. But I have an angel!!!

My BFF @fluersnuit says she can't go. Use my car. Don't worry about gas and I've got fast-track...but one catch. We have to go with the Evil Jay!! Alright , he's not evil, evil and he's kind of nice, but he has a passive aggressive nature. I'm not saying I've never been passive-aggressive but it's not my weapon of choice. For Evil Jay it's instinct. He does it without even thinking. If he wasn't basically a nice guy I woulda shit in his dildo drawer a long time ago.

Master doesn't want to do it. But later by some @fluersuit's power of persuasion, he agrees. Yes, he really, really wanted to go and it was easy to persuade him, but I'm giving out props so STFU. So, now laundry. I have NOTHING to wear!

I get shit ready for the day out and try to get to bed early, but of course, I don't get to sleep until after 1am. I have a fever and start questioning the intelligence of going at all. None of that stops me from jacking off, but you know nature is nature. By morning, I seem fine and even jaunty. (We should thank the spraying of cum.)

So, up, shower, get ready, snack, and.....WAIT. There is no easier way to kill my hard-on than by making me wait.

I love my iPhone.

Fucking Evil Jay is late. I am used to @fluersnuit being late, but I always had this concept that the Evil Jay was excessively anal so in no way would he be late; it's always @fluersnuit fault. Not.

I now realize Evil Jay is in fact a little evil because he's always painted himself the Innocent Jay and in fact he is NOT.

Anyway, I'm getting riled. People who know me know that I absolutely loathe waiting even when it's my fault I'm waiting. I'll be pissy about me being 15 minutes early and hound you to hurry up. Yes, I am flawed and yes, you had no idea.

Waiting is far worse when I have no idea when the person is going to show and that person doesn't call or give me the head's up that they are going to be late. So, I start to boil and clean the fucking house because if I don't I'm going to snap at some one for no good reason. Well, a reason good enough for them. I'm sure I'd have felt justified.

Evil Jay calls an hour after he's supposed to...No, Master calls Evil Jay an hour after he's supposed to show and Evil Jay is just leaving. He says something about it being no big deal because Folsom doesn't start until 11am but fucker doesn't realize we like to mosey on down, get breakfast, get coffee roll around for great parking. It's leisurely, not a fucking panic attack. I let it go, no need to flip out and so we get it done and arrive to Folsom with some okay parking and it's before things are too busy so I use the port-a-potty to christen the day!

I think it's gonna be clean since it's so early...wrong. God, next year bringing hand sanitizer and Lysol. I probably say that every year and don't,. but it always sounds like a plan.

I stared at the guy on the right a long time.

So Folsom right? It's supposed to be dirty, raunchy, covered in dick and raw pussy! Well, yea and no. We often hit the fair right when it opens. We walk the booths before a huge crowd hits and then we sit at Brain Wash, sipping coffee. If you've never been, it's a cafe/laundry mat. Excellent coffee and if you get the right seat you get to view one of the music stages and see cuties pumping their hips. You do have to live through the rattle of the rafters, but hey if you can't handle bass steer clear of Queers.

Evil Jay doesn't stay with us the whole time. YES!! Again, nice enough guy but well...he sucks at my vibe and the place was already feeling kind of off. We suck down the coffee and head out.

There's the usual merchants, leather gear, porn stars and fetish wear. I pass Naked Swords booth. See Steamworks, the infamous Kink.Com stage. We check out the artists, the hand made whips, blindfolds and so on. The pony boys and girls start their parade. We see a lot of leather pups this year and even a furry. The Leather Daddies are sporting harnesses as usual, but more diverse in style. There are Bears, Twinks, Daddies, Cubs and all kinds of man cunt everywhere. Hot ladies and your usual geek leather crowd. It almost feels like home until....

Love the boots.

There was this old chick, looked homeless skanky walking around shouting how she wants to lick ass. There were French tourists walking around looking incredibly French. I don't know how else to put it. The fashion just seems so European. I saw some cute graying straight couples. There was a naked guy, wandering shoeless. He seemed lost and pathetic. It made me uncomfortable because I couldn't tell if he was all there. He seemed to be having his own kind of fun and later I saw him with a beer..where he kept his cash I have no idea....

I did see the usual people, Bears leading Pandas and a lot of young kinksters, etc. The crowd was diverse as usual but missing something. That something was a sense of abandon.

All of the times I've been to Folsom Street it has had a decadent vibe. You had a sense that you could do anything here and it'd be fine. We were all cut from the same kinky cloth and you were with your own. Gender, Age, Sexuality were not not factors. We were here because BDSM and leather are our lives. I didn't feel that this time. This time I felt like I was on display.

I love the X-Men!!! Oh. Still.

I know, it's a fucking public event, right? You are on display just by being there, but this time, this time there was a wall. You could feel an Us and Them barrier come up. For the first time ever, Folsom Street felt touristy to me. It felt this way to Master as well. He didn't touch me the same way or test out equipment on me. He never once asked someone else to whip me. Maybe it was just us, but maybe not. The whole place seemed censored.

I overheard someone saying that the police were enforcing laws. Like no fucking on stage like I'd seen on Kink.com before. They slapped, tickled and exposed, but no cocksucking that I saw. That was what the whole thing felt like, look but don't touch.

Okay, generally there is no touching. It is an unspoken rule that you don't touch what's not yours and you ask to touch someone, but I'm talking people not touching their own. I didn't even see Captain Jack. I looked up several times and heard some ooohs and ahs with faces turned upwards, but I never once saw a hooded man stroking his massive dick from a balcony in the sky...

There is always a practical one.

But then maybe it was just me and the fact that it was an in and out kind of day. Don't get me wrong, I had fun. I met people, took a lot of photos, planted seeds for future connections. I hit the booths, talked, hung out, had a beer. It was still Fetish Mecca. I still saw hot bods everywhere. It was simply missing reckless abandon which is fine. My sex life is reckless abandon. And if “vanillas” want to take a look at the “wild side”, they can. They can learn, add spice to their sex lives, go home and release all the pent up sexual energy that you carry around at an event like this.

I never get off at Folsom. I wait until later, until I'm alone with Master. I let every thing I see soak into me, build up and I hold this sweet wanton tension until his hands are on me. Until I am on my knees and he's shoving his cock down my throat. I can't wait for that fist in my hair, the pumping hips, the flexing thighs.....coming home to the quiet town where no one knows where you've been. Sensing that life went on while you were in your sexual bubble, experiencing sexual need with thousands of strangers is hot. It's contrast is searing.

So even if you go and it doesn't feel right. You go and you don't touch a single cock, or stroke a slit, you leave knowing your were someplace unique, some place that is Rome incarnate. Bacchus runs the streets and Augustus hasn't laid down his laws. The Far Right, the Ultra-Conservative they can't touch it. It's ours and you have no fucking doubt that they want it too, deep down they are as carnal as we are. We are simply brave enough to face it. Folsom Street. Go. You have to, just once. -Nick Anderson 9/25/2012

I'm going to tell you I took this pic for the great tats, but I'd be lying.

© 2012

Check out the Official Site: FOLSOM STREET FAIR 

BULL (Cristian Torrent)

BDSM is about Safe, Sane and Consensual sexual behaviours. Every so often we come across controversial edge play that some say can be safe if done right and others say should never be done. Erotic Asphyxiation Gun Play and Ball Kicking are three of the most well known controversial sexual activities. Read on understanding that the described can be dangerous and have been known to be fatal. Do your research,understand the risks before you seek to engage in something that may kill you. If you must do it, learn to do it in the safest way. -Nick Anderson aka Apollo Dark      Learn HERE (R.A.C.K.)

The room was crowded. There were guys standing in every square foot of the bar. Some so close you knew they weren’t just standing. Shirts were off; sweat inched down slick chests to pumping hips. The music was loud, thumping in my bones. I sat in an open area,well lit. away from the cruising area. I looked over there many times, watching the hottest men walk in and out, sometimes looking satiated, sometimes hand in hand on their way to a more comfortable spot.

I moved to the music, planted solidly on a bar stool. I was sipping a beer that had gone too warm when I saw him.

He entered my line of site from the far left. He walked in shirt off, showing off his guns. I shut my eyes for a split second. I needed to or else I’d be off my stool and right into the crowd to him. I opened my eyes and he was looking at me. I shook my head and smiled. I stood up, but I sank back down when another guy tapped him on the shoulder and took away his attention. He was dressed in leathers just like the guy who had been eying me. I guess I wasn't his type in my beat up denim and black muscle shirt. Oh well. I took another sip of my beer.

I knew I was out of my element. I didn't go to bars like these. I was clean, cut, always proper. I used to shop at GAP when it was cool. I was as wild as I was ever going to get. I let it go and watched the crowd.

The clientele was diverse in some ways, but not so much in others. I saw men in all shades, of all builds, but they were all nicely chiseled and dressed in some kind of gear. I liked the leather and military looks the most. I suppose that's why I was here, trying to dip my toes in shark infested waters, pretending that I could be something else.

An older guy came up to me and said hello. He was nice looking, but I new the moment he got into my personal space I didn't want him. He was pungently scented in some kind of booze. I imagined it to be Gin because it had this sharp, citric edge to it. I brushed him off and he moved on to the next guy, so quickly that I raised my brow. All the while, I felt my muscle stud. I was honed in on him even if my eyes weren't. Then he stepped out of the dark.

I caught sight of the muscled stud. He was kissing a man, no a boi before shoving him to his knees. He gyrated, smashing his cock into the boi's face. It got me hard. I instantly imagined him behind me, gripping my hips, pounding into me knocking my thoughts around. From that point on, I didn’t stop looking at that fucking stud. I was a little obsessed and passed over a handful of offering looks for a fantasy who did nothing but occasionally look my way. It was fine. I told myself I was only here to train myself to like warm beer and stare at hot, hungry cock.

The muscle stud was very popular with the boys, charismatic and dominating. He laughed heartily, not afraid to show joy. But he’d turn an eye at someone and he was pure steel transforming from happy stud, to iron clad bull. Yes, he was a Bull and that's what I was going to call him.

He was really working over the boi, teasing him, dragging him around by his hair. It was all very exciting. I wanted to stroke my cock. I adjusted several times and reached down once or twice, gripping and letting go when I’d feel eyes on me. I wasn’t ready to do that. I was too manicured to be a guy who jacked off in gay bars. I was a voyeur and nothing more.

I focused on my hot Bull. He was tanned, chiseled and lean. All the weight on him was pure muscle. What made me want him was the edge he had; He felt dangerous. Yeah, I know playing with bad boys can get you run over, but sometimes you want the fucking tread.

I smirked for a moment pretending a liaison between us. Would he want a guy like me? I wasn’t built, not like him. I didn’t walk around like I had tusks coming out of my head. There was nothing special about me. I’m just a normal guy, doing normal things, feeling that normal hint of insecurity that we pretend nobody has. I took my eyes off of Bull suddenly feeling a little unable to reach up.

I took another swig of my beer, sucking in the warmth like it was my best friend. The crowd seemed to electrify the moment I did. It wasn’t me, it was Bull. The boi who was on his knees was now sucking his cock. Bull grabbed his head and slammed his meat deep down his throat. You could see the boi’s eyes go wide and tear up, but he took that fucking cock and sucked it like it was the elixir of life. And maybe it was…

I leaned forward, we all leaned forward. Guys moved around to check it out, heads moved left and right, a shifting wave as men got into their lines of sight and adjusted. At the bar I had a perfect view. I heard whispers about Bull. He was a somebody, but I didn't know who.

Blood rushed to my cock, I got rock hard so fast I could have gone into shock. My brain protested but my heavy balls told it to shut the fuck up. Okay, maybe I’m not as pristine as I liked to think.

Bull grabbed both sides of the boi’s face. He stroked deep, shoving his thick cock down his throat. Bull didn't pull out, just held the boi still until he started to struggle. It shook me to see it. It was raw, animalistic with an air of cruelty in it. It radiated tendrils into the room, gripping everyone tightly. His dominance was like a vice and I moved comfortably into it, feeling at home in the presence of something bigger than myself. The concept sparked something in me. It made me nervous but needful. I wanted to feel him up close, touch the current to see if I could take it. God, I wanted to take all of Bull, every thick inch of him.

He pounded that poor kid’s face for a while. Occasionally pulling out and slapping his face then shoving his cock back in. The boi was drooling, willing do to anything to get more of Bull’s cock. I didn’t fucking blame him. I wanted it, too.

Then Bull grabbed the kid by the hair and dragged him onto a platform, it was wear people danced. No one was dancing right now, despite the music still rattling the speakers. It was perfect though, perfectly matched to the intensity of what all of us were seeing.

We were seeing Bull play with the boi’s cock, tease it hard then slap the boi’s hand away every time the kid reached for it. We saw Bull lube up his cock, lube up the hole he was about to fuck. Time moved so slowly, the anticipation of penetration ebbing into the club, sucking out all of the air until the heat of the place started to stifle. But he didn’t do it, not yet.

He grabbed the boi by the throat and started choking him. My heart fell into my stomach, what the fuck was happening? I shook my head. I’d never seen anyone do it before. I knew it happened. I knew about all the famous that died while doing breath play, but to see it, right here, in a public place, in the middle of a fucking club? No! It was too dangerous. Too much for a place like this. It felt sinful, dirty and pushed me to an edge I never thought I'd feel. My God, I wanted to jack off.

Bull wrapped his hands around the smaller man’s throat. I’ve been calling the kid boi, and I’m implying he's small, but he was a muscled boi and only small because he wasn’t as ripped as Bull. I have seen so many things in my life, but this drove me into new realms. I could feel my sexual perceptions change.

I.

Wanted.

That.

Finally! Bull’s big cock slid home. Boi cried out, boi lifted his legs up, boi was a fucking slut turned into a gaping hole. Bull fucked the shit out of him and went for his throat again. God, God, God, fuck I needed more deities for this! I could see the adrenaline rush through Bull. The intensity on his face pulled you in; the veins seemed to pop out of his arms. His face twisted into a growl. And that boi who struggled at first, who exuded as much fear as want, let go, let go of it all and he locked eyes with Bull. He gave himself over to a power he could not control. It was Dominance, not like you get to top me or you’re so god damned pushy you get your way. No, this was Power concentrated in a steely grip, wrapped around a tender throat. This was the plummeting of one’s self. I saw it as the boi gasped for air; I saw it as the light slowly faded from his eyes.

I held my breath, I wanted to wait for those eyes to pop back open, but they didn’t pop open and I didn’t wait. Bull released his grip and pulled the limp, seemingly lifeless boi’s legs up and plowed into him. FUCK HOLE was the only phrase that came to mind.

Bull was majestic! He was primal, beyond feral. In that fucking act I saw what man was before concrete and suits covered up the beast. Bull’s hips pumped in and out you could hear it, you could hear his cock ripping that boi’s ass apart. You could hear that and soft moans peppered throughout the room.

I couldn’t stop myself. I unzipped my jeans, stuck my hand inside and stroked. I couldn’t sit here, watch that and not do it. Then some guy came over. I don’t know who he was, his name or what he looked like. The only thing I knew about him is he pressed his tongue hard against my shaft while he sucked. My eyes were locked onto Bull, mesmerized by his every move. You could have killed me I would not have cared.

I pumped to Bull’s rhythm, jumping into his body. I was him fucking a pretty boi cunt to oblivion. I looked at the boi for a second; his body was like a rag doll. He was out, but I thought I saw him breathe. I was sure of it…Bull began grunting, a deep guttural sound emanated from him. He punctuated it with thrusts. The boi came around and took it all, like he should. Then Bull came hard. His body shouted a war cry in the form of gush of cum that spilled out of the boi’s ass and hung suspended in the air. Bull grabbed the nearest head and shoved his cock in the man’s throat. I lost it right there and came. I couldn't breathe. Sharp breaths sliced across my throat but never made it to my lungs. I looked down to thank the guy who sucked me off, but he was gone. There was nothing there but my cock, satiated and glistening with some man’s saliva.

Bull was gone when I looked up. The only evidence of his existence was the boy who stumbled out to another part of the club. I checked myself, got it together, paid my bill and got out of my seat. I felt odd, out of place by doing what I’d just done. I know men do it. I’ve seen men do it, but not me I’m not that kind of guy.

I brushed past and threw a crowd of fire. Everyone was agitated whether they liked it or not. A lot of people were going to get laid tonight. I stepped out of the club into a stark street light. My eyes protested. I closed them long enough for them to settle. I opened my eyes and there he was, Bull. My mouth dropped open.

“You like?” He smiled already knowing the answer.

I nodded.

“How about the boy I sent you?”

My face went red.

He chuckled and ruffled my head. “You’re a nice kid, huh?”

“I guess so.” I smirked totally dazzled by him.

“You want that someday?”He nodded toward the club.

“I don’t do that. I’m not really...”

“Ha-ha!” He slapped my back, but let his hand rest where it landed. “I know what you are. I see it in your eyes.” He started walking and I walked with him. “Come, let me show you.” –Nick Anderson 

 

© 2012

VISIT CRISTIAN TORRENT. SEE THE REAL THING 

HEY YOU!

Yes you, the Reader. If there is something you like and would like more of, DM on Twitter or contact me at Apollodark1@gmail.com. If you are in the Sex Industry and want some promo, let's talk. If you want to read about your fav Pornstar tell me and I will write a fantasy piece just for you.

Right now, I'm not charging for anything. I'm a small time writer with big time talent. Sooner or later I'll need to make the bucks. I'll try to do that outside of these pages. Like with my upcoming book co-written with Lilian Cheynes. Erotic Dark, the His and Her Anthology. I'm editing it now.

In the His section, you'll see some of the pieces written here. Some re-written for some ampage, and others left alone because they are vignette perfection. I will include some never before seen pieces in there, too.

The Hers section by Lilian will focus on Straight M/f and F/m BDSM. 

Both of us are coming out with erotic novels. Red Oak:The Taming and The Kennels. You've seen some of the Kennels on  here already. It's going full on full length. Cuz I know you like it big. 

I'll be offering the Anthology for 99cents for 30 days after it's published since my loyal follower can help me out without breaking the bank. After that, it will go full price. 

Be sure to read my recent entries,What BDSM Taught Me and Punishment

 Also, please check out 

Cristian Torrent.(@cristiantorrent) He's sexy, built and an all around great guy. His work in the porn industry is inspiring because he goes against the grain and sticks to his European roots. Visit him at WWW.CRISTIANTORRENT.TV

Sir Brian.(@brian_ofthelost) He's a hot Philly pro Dom with lots of insight to offer. If you want it real and you want it hot check him out.  Brian Ofthelost

And go buy Mike Bliss's art.(@mikesbliss) GO, GO, GO. Love it, really do. MIKESBLISS

And find me on Twitter via @apollodark   

What BDSM Taught Me

I think back on my first days of kink, not the times I tied girls up or got tied up, not the Gor books that got me hard, or the Story of O, or even Henry Miller dancing on the Rooftops of Paris. In my early days I was simply titillated and didn’t understand why. I wish I had because it would have saved me a lot of pain.

I don’t have to tell you that I was promiscuous at one time. I might exude a wanton energy. Truth is I’m far more loyal than what meets the eyes. In my wild days I fucked a lot of people and did a lot of things that in retrospect was a young kid’s search for Power. I had thought I wanted Power. I thought Power would make me a man.

My first few long term relationships were a mixed bag. I do not regret any of them despite the pain I experienced. I chose the wrong kind of people to fill a need I couldn’t comprehend. I wanted to dominate and be dominated. I loved pain. I loved psychological mind fucks. I liked the adrenaline pump of fear. In a controlled environment that shit is snazzy; in other ones it can lead to abuse.

I was abused in my last relationship. I didn’t see it then. I couldn’t see it because I had mistaken domineering for dominance. The abuse wasn’t so much physical, though it occasionally went there. Most of it was psychological and produced by insecurity on both our parts. I believed everything I was told, everything.

You can’t write.

You’re ugly.

No one will love you like I do.

You can’t survive without me.

I was tricked you see and done a disservice by Society’s view of BDSM. Had it been openly discussed I would have known what I was and what I needed. Instead, I felt shame. I assumed my need for submission was weakness of character.

In America, you lead, follow or get out of the way. The reality is, if you don’t lead you are nothing. I bought that. I bought cases of it until I was soaked in insecurity and low self-esteem. I hated my need for submission and in turn, I hated myself.

When I met Master, I made it a game. It was for pleasure in pain and nothing but role play. He and I would have fun and then it’d be over and I would play the game with someone else. I was a masochist who needed a sadist, not a submissive who needed a dominant. That was the plan, then I fell in love.

It’s not uncommon for a sub to fall in love with a dominant. It happens all of the time because in midst of submission you are bared to him. He becomes Father, Teacher, Master, God. You want to please him. It makes you happy to please him. It feeds your soul and when you see the happiness that you give accepted and reveled in, you want more and more. And that submissive lust feels like love. It reads like it and makes your heart skip a beat like it. And when you are taken from it, you fall so hard, so deep that you cannot understand how you survived without it.

Submission is very much like a drug in that sense and I am very much like an addict.

But it was love this time, true love and ten years later as our relationship transforms into something else, that love will always be there. Master will always be the man who knows me like no other. In all of my tragedies in life, I was awarded not only love, but love in the service of a Master. I will always cherish it and never forget what it was.

It sounds like I came to full terms with my submissive nature when I met Master. I actually didn’t for a while. It took time and a foundation between us to allow me to see myself in a different way. I was allowed to be me, encouraged to excel in my talents and to become more than I was and reach for goals that I had previously thought out of my reach. Master made me better because he wanted to own a jewel not a fucking dirt covered rock.

My last partner kept me dirty, didn’t want anyone to see me, didn’t want me to know myself. That was abuse and what Master gave me was pain, pleasure and a grip on the reality of my being. That is true Mastery in all its glory. He wasn’t afraid of me outshining him. He knew that my glory was his glory and my brilliance would only add to his.

It took me maybe 3 years to shed the damage of my then recent past.

So, in those ten years I came to accept myself as a submissive. In those ten years I came to understand that I also like to dominate. I learned that who I am is constantly evolving. There are no absolutes in my position in the hierarchy or my sexuality. I am feminine. I am masculine. I play with the spectrum of human existence and none of it is wrong or makes me less than.

Who knew that BDSM would give me all of that? I didn’t. I thought it would make me weak, but I am stronger than I was. What made me weak was my acceptance of Societal Normality. I needed to be Mainstream, blend into the waters and go unnoticed. But really, fuck that shit. It only hurt me and denied me my potential. 

So yeah, through Master, Submission, and Pain, I found myself, accepted myself and learned a pride that nothing had ever taught me. Pretty fucking cool, huh? So, don't hide from yourself, even if it looks different from what you have known.

When those of us who live on the fringes of society cease to accept the differences within ourselves and in others we destroy the evolution of humanity. When we allow the concept of “Normal” to dictate our reality we destroy lives. There is no one way to live. There is no one way to be. If there was, we’d be a singular culture, one menu, one TV station, one dance move.

Sorry kids, I am anything I want to be. I eat burgers and sushi. I wear lavender striped socks in my Thrift Store loafers. I watch the History Channel and surf for porn. I dance like a fag and every so often my grace exceeds my expectation.

I was never happy trying to fit in. If you’re not happy with it either, then stop trying. Don’t let them define your masculinity, your femininity your anything. Set yourself free! Fly fuckers, I do, even in submission. –Nick Anderson

© 2012

Cristian Torrent

http://www.cristiantorrent.tv/

This is a photo manip I did of one of Cristian Torrent's recent photos. I didn't sign it because it's not my original photography. Go visit a guy who has always been very kind to me. -Nick