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Im assigning this man to puppy therapy

He needs it

You’ve got the leather collar tight around his throat, leash wrapped around your fist so you can control everything—his pace, how deep he goes, when he’s allowed to come. Every time he tries to look away you give the leash a sharp tug and the collar bites into his skin until he’s forced to meet your eyes again. You make him thank you for letting him fuck you. You make him say the most degrading shit while he’s buried inside you, voice shaking, and the more humiliating the words are, the harder his cock twitches.

You feel it. Of course you do. So you call him on it—tell him he’s nothing but a desperate whore who gets off on being treated like this. His hips stutter, his face burns with hatred and shame, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. Not when you’re holding the leash and looking right at him like you already know exactly what he is.

And then there’s the other way.

The first time you peg him, you do it slow. Gentle. Thorough. You spoon him, one arm around his chest, the other controlling the strap as you sink into him at that perfect angle that makes his legs shake. He’s used to violence and rough hands, so this — being opened up carefully, feeling every inch without being able to rush or fight it — completely undoes him. His ass keeps trying to clench you out at first, but it doesn’t take long before he’s moaning. Really moaning. Loud, broken sounds he can’t swallow down. His cheeks are flushed deep red, eyes glassy and wet, and every time you grind in deep he lets out these soft, helpless whimpers like it’s too much. Too good. Too fucking intimate.

leader of the golden path