by Demencia XD
IDEA
Create a story where hot younger bandit of maffia enters in a bakery as the owner was alone closing the store. He was marvelous, full of drip, arrongance and smug. He went to send a message for the owner for don't pay for the protection of the Dom. The bandid guy takes of his hat and light a charutte while slowly walking with his shiny black social shoes clapping against the wooden floor as he walked towards the younguer onwer who was scared said they're already closed.
The bandid announces who he was with a tesing voice telling he not paid for the protection and he came to collect it. He was taller, fit and youger, he had masculine savage aura and a beatiful deshivly smirk with perfect white teeth.
The owner felt paralyzed as the man slowly walked closer to the owner whose high stopped on the chest of the guy's chest. He didn't knew if he was more scared by the intimidating aura of the lad or by his godly hot look (highlite about the bandid elegant vest look and how it perfctly matched with his godly chiseled pretty face).
The owner resists a bit and tried to be though, but as he proceeded to shout to the bandid to go, the bandid hit him in the face making the smaller man fall to his backs in the ground. The bandid nonchantly and cold pull his weapon from his the inside his palleto and aim for the man as he walked closer to him clapping his shoes ritmically until his big shoe were closer to the owner's nuts. He teasely tells the owner to shut up and verbally dominates the man making him feel weak. Noticing guys boner in his hard pants the bandit smirk at the guy in the ground
"you're a dirt pig aren't ya'?!" then lift his shoe and bring it down and softly landing it right on the guy's hard on applying some pression.
The owner imediatly sit up and opem his mouth and moans. And in flash as the owner got a pistol can inside his mouth. The owner bulge his eyes looking frighed as the bandid grin at him pulled the back of his head gripping strongly his hair and say in as mocking devishly way:
"humpf, 'ya know... mine's bigger than this weapons. " he makes moviments of back and forward and the man gaggs drawn a bit of saliva as the bandid applied more pressure on the tip toe of his shoe trampling the mans bulge against the floor. The owner muffles in pain and pleasure.
"I's say you get it, right my boy? Nod 3 times if you got it"
the owner quickly nods and the bandid hive him a cut smile.
"huh, let's see you really get it... give a nice and wet slurp in my gun's can if you understand"
Then owner look at the man above and suck it theatrically and the bandit smirks.
"you're a good slut aren'tcha, haha?!" He pulls his gun out of his mouth and take a little towel from his pocket and start to clean the cam proudly. "said that just pledge your loyatly again to family and I'll take my way"
"Yes sir, I pledge and devote my loyalty to you, god!"
"Nooo... you moroom" The bandid said in playfull tone "You had to pledge to the dom, haha. But guess this is fine anyway... if ya' want to be my little bitche guess this counts as a pledge for the family, just gimme whatever changes you made today and we're good"
The man quickly get up and grabb the cash in his register machine and knew before the young taller man streching both his hands gripping a buch of money and the taller takes it nonchantly and yawn.
"That's it all? Maaaan... can't belive a made boss change his mind about 'ya. "no boss, don't put a bullet in his head" I said. He's gonna be so sad when he see this chop changes. the gangster said with a smirk and the owner play a visible sadness in his eyes.
"Ha, whatup man? I was just kidding, you're really a nice ovedient boy. Usually I need to break 2 or more teeth to show them a lesson, but a nice done stomp in the dick made the trick, huh"
The taller handsome man raise lean his right shoe in his left knee and slip a finger in the back of his shoe and move the shod down letting it drop in the wooden floor making a def thud echo in the empty store. He silently keep striping his black long sock withouth take off his eyes of the owner still kneeled in the ground watching him with the mouth drop like he was seeing an angel.
The taller man stuff his soaked warm sock directly on the owners mouth, the vinegarry scent rose in the air and quickly invade his nostrils as the sour and salty sweed dripped down slolly flooding his moth and sliping in the back of his tongue through his throut.
"That's just a reward for showing your loyalty, sweatie. Now laid down... lemme give 'ya a last present!"
The owner quickly got down on his four laying his chin on the floor with only the nice look' man's juicy toes smashing against the wooden in the line of vision.
Without warning the helpess man just ses as the foot suddenly advcance in his face and the teller guys wrapp and clentch the guy's nose betwenn his second and big tone softly starts to raise the man's face by pushing it against his whole sole. The man whiper loud as he feels the moist slippery skin gripped and rubbed under his nosetrills.
"That's right boi... short breaths and deeps whiffs!"
The owner was starting to get louder, and as the younger criminal felt the man was approaching the climax he pulled his foot away and quickly turned back walking to catch his shoe laid in the ground in a corner. The owner just looked dissapointed with a doggy face as he the handsome lad stopped when he was almost there.
"well... message delivered! You can keep my sock as souvenir... bye lil'fella!" with his shoe put on the tall figure says without turning back as he had one hand stuffed in his pant pocket and waved his masculy big other hand in a goodbye.
the owner quickly get up and grab the sock in his hands and shout:
"WAIT..." The taller man stop in the spot without turning "PLEASE SIR! C'mem back tomorrow night! I promise I'll serve you the best Carbonara you eate in your whole life... as sign of my gratitude... "SIR" " The owner said the last part full of lust and desire.
With a cocky smirk the taller guy turned back and walked to the owner stoping only when he towerd him and give good smoke in his charuto. He made a sign pointin to his mouth with his other hand as he nonchantly looked to the smaller guy.
The owner understands and he opems his mouth and the good-looking man deposit the final ashes of the cigarett in his mouth, drops the lightining burning tip and step on it on the floor creating a mess.
He then say "Well, sweety... make me the best meal you cooked in your life and... " he casually looks to the side "if I like it I let you clean those big bad boys with your tongue. They'll be marinating in those tigh shoes for all the day just for you" He looked back at the and wink.
Both look down towards the floor and watches a the wet pants of the owner dripped with a sticky transparend liquided dropping bucks on the floor. The taller man chuckles and say:
"Now clean this mess, will 'ya sweethard?! It's not good for mafia's business if every one knew they have pig as a protegy, right?! " He give a firm, but not harsh slap on the man's cheek who give a little moan and leave the store wistling.
The owner drop in his knees in the slimmy ground with black ashes and sight not believen what just happened.
"Who was this guy?"
In a quiet corner of the city, tucked away from the bustling streets, stood a small bakery known as "La Dolce Vita." The owner, Marco, was a young and somewhat scrawny man, often found lost in the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries. But on this particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the bakery's windows, Marco was about to encounter an unexpected visitor.
The doorbell tinkled softly as it swung open, announcing the arrival of a stranger. Marco looked up from behind the counter, his hands covered in flour, to see a remarkable figure striding in. This newcomer exuded confidence, dripping with an air of arrogance that commanded attention.
The man was younger than Marco, his chiseled features and smug expression creating an irresistible allure. With a flourish, he removed his hat and produced a cigar, expertly lighting it. The fragrant smoke wafted through the air as the stranger's shiny black social shoes clapped against the wooden floor with each measured step.
Marco, initially frozen by the audacity of this intrusion, finally found his voice. "I'm sorry, but we're closed for the night," he stammered, attempting to assert himself.
The stranger merely smirked, his perfect white teeth gleaming in the dimly lit bakery. He spoke with a teasing tone, his voice dripping with a hint of danger. "Closed, huh? That's a shame, sweetheart. I came to collect a little something, and I'd hate to be disappointed."
Marco's heart raced as he realized the man's intentions. This was no ordinary visitor; this was a messenger from the mafia, sent to collect protection money—money Marco didn't have. The stranger's presence was intimidating enough, but it was his magnetic charm and striking appearance that left Marco feeling both paralyzed and entranced.
As the stranger's gaze bore into him, Marco couldn't decide what was more overwhelming—the fear of what this man represented or the undeniable attraction he felt. The stranger's attire, an elegant vest that perfectly matched his chiseled, pretty face, seemed to accentuate every contour of his well-toned body.
It was a clash of emotions within Marco—fear, desire, and an inexplicable fascination. He didn't know if he was more terrified by the intimidating aura of the stranger or by the mesmerizing allure of this godly figure who had just walked into his life.
As Marco tried to stand his ground, he soon realized the gravity of the situation. The bandit didn't take kindly to resistance. With a swift and brutal strike, he struck Marco across the face, sending the smaller man sprawling onto the floor. The impact left a stinging pain on Marco's cheek, but it also brought him face to face with the harsh reality of the situation.
The bandit, cold and nonchalant, retrieved a weapon from inside his coat, aiming it squarely at Marco. His polished black shoes continued to tap rhythmically on the wooden floor, drawing Marco's attention to their imposing presence.
The bandit's taunting words cut through the tension. "Shut up," he sneered, his voice dripping with dominance as he verbally dominated Marco. It was clear who held the power in this encounter, and Marco felt his resolve weaken under the bandit's relentless pressure.
But the bandit wasn't content with just words. His keen observation hadn't missed the telltale sign of arousal in Marco's hard pants. An amused smirk played on his lips as he took note of Marco's predicament.
"You're a dirty pig, aren't ya'?" he mocked, lifting his shoe and gently pressing it onto Marco's straining erection. The pressure was both painful and pleasurable, and Marco couldn't help but let out a muffled moan as the sensation washed over him.
In a flash, the bandit produced a pistol, shoving it into Marco's trembling mouth. Fear gripped Marco as he stared wide-eyed at the weapon, his heart pounding in his chest. The bandit, undeterred, gripped the back of Marco's head, tangling his fingers in Marco's hair and holding him in place.
"Hmm," the bandit purred with a wicked glint in his eye, "you know, mine's bigger than this weapon." He demonstrated with a slow and provocative back-and-forth motion, causing Marco to gag slightly and draw saliva as the bandit pressed the tip of his shoe onto Marco's bulge, trampling it against the floor.
Pain and pleasure mingled as Marco's moans filled the air, muffled by the pistol's presence in his mouth. The bandit's cruel dominance left Marco feeling weak and helpless, utterly at his mercy.
"I'd say you get it, right, my boy?" the bandit mused, withdrawing the pistol from Marco's mouth. He wore a sly, cut smile as he continued, "Let's see if you really understand. Give a nice, wet slurp on my gun's barrel if you're with me."
Marco looked up at the man above him, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desire. With a theatrical flourish, he sucked on the pistol's barrel, eliciting a smirk from the bandit.
"You're a good little slut, aren'tcha?" the bandit chuckled. He then retrieved a small towel from his pocket and proudly cleaned the gun cowered in saliva. "Consider this your pledge of loyalty to the family.
The owner, still trembling from the ordeal, quickly responded to the bandit's request. "Yes, sir, I pledge and devote my loyalty to you.!"
The bandit chuckled in response, amused by the owner's eagerness. "Nooo... you moron," he teased playfully. "You had to pledge to the Dom, haha. But guess this is fine anyway... if you want to be my little bitch, guess this counts as a pledge for the family too. Just give me whatever changes you made today, and we're good."
With a sense of relief, the man swiftly rose to his feet and retrieved the cash from the register machine. He nervously handed it over to the young, taller bandit, who took it nonchalantly with a yawn.
"That's it all?" the bandit questioned with a hint of disappointment. "Man... can't believe I made boss change his mind about 'ya. 'No boss, don't put a bullet in his head,' I said. He's gonna be so sad when he sees these chump changes." He wore a smirk, clearly enjoying the owner's discomfort.
"Ha, what's up, man?" the bandit continued, his tone shifting to a friendlier demeanor. "I was just kidding. You're really a nice obedient boy. Usually, I need to break two or more teeth to teach them a lesson, but just took a well-done stomp in your cuck’s lil’ dick to make the trick, huh?"
The taller, handsome man leaned against a nearby counter, lifting his right shoe and slipping a finger into the back of it. He moved the shoe down and let it drop onto the wooden floor, creating a definitive thud that echoed in the empty store.
He continued to strip off his long black sock with deliberate slowness, never taking his eyes off the owner, who remained on his knees, his mouth agape as though he were beholding an angel.
The taller man stuffed his soaked, warm sock directly into the owner's mouth. The vinegary scent permeated the air, invading the owner's nostrils. The sour and salty sweat slowly flooded his mouth, slipping to the back of his tongue and down his throat.
"That's just a reward for showing your loyalty, sweetie," the bandit cooed. "Now, lie down... let me give you one last present."
Without warning, the helpless owner watched as the bandit's foot advanced toward his face. The bandit's toes wrapped around the owner's nose, gently pushing his face against the sole of his foot. The man whimpered loudly as he felt the moist, slippery skin gripping and rubbing against his nostrils and covering all his face easily almost swallowing it in between his wrinkles.
"That's right, boy... short breaths and deep whiffs!" The bandit's voice was filled with satisfaction as he continued to dominate and humiliate the owner, who could whimper meekly.
As the bandit pulled away, leaving the owner in a state of lustful frustration, he quickly retrieved his sock and started to get dressed. The owner watched with a doggy expression as the handsome lad stopped just short of the corner where his shoe lay.
"Well... message delivered! You can keep my sock as a souvenir... bye, lil' fella!" The bandit's voice carried a teasing tone as he spoke, slipping on his shoe without even turning back. With one hand stuffed casually in his pant pocket, he waved his other, muscular hand in a mocking goodbye.
Desperation filled the owner as he called out, "WAIT..." The taller man halted in his tracks, still not turning to face the owner. "PLEASE, SIR! Come back tomorrow night! I promise I'll serve you the best Carbonara you've ever eaten in your whole life... as a sign of my gratitude... 'SIR.'" The owner emphasized the last word, his voice heavy with lust and desire.
The taller guy turned back with a cocky smirk, walking toward the owner. He took a final drag of his cigarette and made a sign, pointing to his own mouth with his free hand, while nonchalantly looking down at the smaller man.
Understanding the unspoken command, the owner obediently opened his mouth, and the good-looking man deposited the final ashes of the cigarette into it. He dropped the lightning-burning tip and stamped it out on the floor, creating a messy pile of ashes.
"Well, sweety... make me the best meal you've cooked in your life, and... " The bandit casually glanced to the side, as if considering something. "If I like it, I'll let you clean those big bad bare boys with your tongue. They'll be marinating in those tight shoes all day just for you." He winked suggestively.
Both men looked down at the floor, witnessing the wet pants of the owner dripping with a sticky, transparent liquid that formed puddles on the ground. The taller man couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
"Now clean this mess, will 'ya, sweetheart?! It's not good for the mafia's business if everyone knew they have a pig as a protege, right?!" He gave the owner's cheek a firm, but not overly harsh, slap, eliciting a small moan from the man. Then he turned and left the store, whistling.
The owner dropped to his knees on the slimy ground, amidst the black ashes, still trying to process what had just happened.
"Who was this guy?
