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Trained fighters.

Manly Men, Men who fight.

They love their Manliness.

They know that Manliness is produced and nurtured by fighting.

They love their Manliness, which is called Eros.

They bond through their fighting.

As Manly Men, they would give their lives for each other, that is how strong their Eros really is.

You can tell they are filled with Eros, by the SIGNS of Manliness, their Man Muscle, their Moral Virtues of Humility, Integrity, Selflessness, Self Control and showing Respect for people, places and things.

They love their Manliness and it shows.

But sometimes I think about wanting to be... Not quite an attack or guard dog, more like a hunting dog? I have a lot of dark kinks (like snuff and cannibalism and gore) and I'm a sadist, but I struggle to be in dominant roles with it and I wish I could be.... Idk? Just a mindless weapon or something? Maybe I could get how frustrated and repressed I am out of my system if just I had someone else doing the thinking for me.

You've come to the right priest man, because I have a task for you dog.

People keep wandering onto the woodland property I live in and I'm getting sick of them hanging around my cottage and shed. I need you to hurt them. They should know better than to wander past a giant 'private property' sign.

Victor circled him like a predator, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “Well, Marine, it looks like you’ve finally met your match,” he sneered, kicking Wyatt’s legs apart to emphasize his helplessness. “You thought you were so tough, didn’t you? Let’s see how tough you are now.”

Wyatt’s muscles strained against the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, but there was no escape. He could feel the rough texture of the jungle floor beneath him, the dirt and leaves sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. His heart pounded in his chest as Victor knelt beside him, his presence a constant reminder of his powerlessness.

“Open wide,” Victor commanded, grabbing Wyatt’s jaw with a bruising grip. The Marine’s jaw ached from the strain, but he complied, his pride taking a backseat to the immediate need to survive. Victor’s thick, erect cock filled his mouth, the taste bitter and overwhelming. Wyatt gagged, but Victor’s grip tightened, forcing him to take it all.

“That’s it, Marine. Take it like a good little whore,” Victor growled, thrusting deeper into Wyatt’s throat. The Marine’s eyes watered, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to breathe. Victor’s cock was relentless, filling every inch of his mouth and throat, leaving him choking and gasping for air.

Victor’s other hand roamed over Wyatt’s body, squeezing and pinching his muscles with a possessive touch. “You look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “All that strength, all those muscles, and you’re completely at my mercy.”

Wyatt’s mind was a whirlwind of pain and humiliation. He could feel Victor’s cock pulsing in his mouth, the taste and smell overwhelming his senses. Every thrust was a reminder of his powerlessness, a brutal assertion of Victor’s dominance. He could feel his own body betraying him, the humiliation of his situation stirring an unwanted arousal deep within him.

Victor pulled out suddenly, leaving Wyatt gasping for breath, his throat raw and sore. “Don’t think we’re done yet,” Victor sneered, grabbing Wyatt’s hair and forcing his head back. “I’m just getting started.”

He moved behind Wyatt, his hands rough and unyielding as he positioned the Marine on all fours. Wyatt’s heart raced with a mix of fear and anticipation, the feeling of Victor’s hands on his hips a constant reminder of his helplessness. The cartel member wasted no time, his cock pressing against Wyatt’s entrance with a relentless pressure.

The first thrust was brutal, a searing pain that tore a scream from Wyatt’s throat. Victor’s cock filled him completely, stretching him to his limits. The Marine’s body tensed, every muscle straining against the ropes as he tried to endure the invasion. But Victor was unrelenting, his movements rough and unforgiving.

“Tell me you love it,” Victor demanded, his voice a low growl.

Wyatt’s response was a garbled cry, the gag preventing him from forming coherent words. Victor’s grip on his hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more forceful, each one a reminder of his dominance.

“Say it,” Victor snarled, his hand moving to Wyatt’s throat, squeezing just enough to cut off his air. “Say you love it, or I swear I’ll make this even worse for you.”

Wyatt’s vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps. With the last of his strength, he forced the words out, his voice a broken whisper. “I… I love it.”

Victor’s laughter was a cruel, hollow sound. “Good boy,” he said, releasing his grip. “Now, let’s see how well you take it.”

Victor’s thrusts grew more erratic, each one driving deeper into Wyatt’s body. The Marine’s muscles trembled with exhaustion, his mind a haze of pain and humiliation. He could feel Victor’s cock filling him completely, each thrust a brutal reminder of his helplessness.

As Victor’s climax approached, his movements became even more frenzied. Wyatt’s body was on fire, the pain and pleasure intermingling in a way that left him gasping for breath. He could feel Victor’s release, the hot, sticky fluid flooding his insides, a final mark of his dominance.

When Victor finally withdrew, Wyatt collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and humiliation. He lay there, gasping for breath, the remnants of Victor’s control seared into his skin. But Victor wasn’t done. He grabbed Wyatt’s hair, yanking his head up and forcing him to look at him.

“You belong to me now,” Victor said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Body and soul.”

Wyatt’s response was a broken moan, his mind and body pushed to their limits. The pain and pleasure intermingled, creating a sensation that was both overwhelming and addictive. He could feel his resolve crumbling, his will to resist fading with each passing moment.

Victor’s hand moved to Wyatt’s mouth, forcing his softening cock between the Marine’s lips. “Clean it,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Wyatt’s body obeyed, his mind too broken to resist. He sucked and licked, the taste of Victor’s release filling his mouth. The act was degrading, a final reminder of his submission, but Wyatt couldn’t stop. He could feel Victor’s satisfaction, his hand tangling in his hair, holding him in place.

When Victor was finally satisfied, he removed the restraints, allowing Wyatt to collapse onto the ground. The Marine lay there, broken and humiliated, his mind reeling from the intensity of the encounter. He knew he had lost, completely and utterly. But a part of him, deep down, had already begun to crave the control, the dominance that Victor wielded so effortlessly.