The following post is part of a thread chronicling the rise of an Alpha named Moby who has slowly ascended to become the Master of Johnny, his submissive boyfriend of two years. CLICK HERE to read all of these posts in chronological order!
As someone who has been teaching Hierarchy online day and night for most of ten years, I’ve been frustrated by the persistent emphasis on the fetishistic and the aggressiveness of the movement. Yes, I know it’s hot … but so much more is possible. I know, because I’ve been fortunate to experience those deeper levels, and I’ve always endeavored to feature true stories that go beyond the surface hierarchical power dynamics.
My brother Johnny has been in a relationship with his boyfriend Moby for two years, and over that time Moby has become more dominant while Johnny has likewise developed submissively. Master Moby has been methodical in his claiming of Johnny, leading him step by step down the inevitable path to his final purpose as Master Moby’s prized and beloved faggot.
I know little about the full extent of this process, but what I’ve seen has been glorious.
Here’s Johnny’s beautiful new update:
Hi Sam,
It’s been a few weeks since I last wrote, and so much has changed—in the best, kinkiest ways possible. I really appreciate your response and feedback. You encouraged me to accept Moby’s offer and explore things further.
Moby and I have been diving deeper into our dynamic. He’s taken a more guiding hand in shaping how I see myself and my body—and honestly? I’ve never felt more seen. Now all of my focus is on His cock. Although I’m still as horny as I ever was before (if not more so), I think I’m slowly finding other outlets to express my pent-up horniness. One of the newest things He introduced was laser hair removal. He thought it would help me feel even more like the soft, submissive boy I’m becoming for Him. So, with my full excitement (and nerves), we started the process. Legs, stomach, butt, pubes—everything below the eyebrows and above the neck—it’s all smooth now. After the third session, I caught myself admiring the mirror. I looked… owned. And I loved it. There’s no hair left. It almost makes me look prepubescent now.
The chastity cage has become a constant now. We’ve made it a little ritual: every couple of days when we shower together, Moby unlocks me, takes His time washing me with these slow, deliberate strokes, calling my locked-up penis my “nub”—a word that’s strangely grown on me. At first, it made me blush with embarrassment. But now, when He looks me in the eyes and says, “My sweet little nub doesn’t need attention,” I melt. It’s not degrading—it’s affirming. He knows how I want to be seen even when I don’t.
I’ve even started using numbing cream sometimes before locking back up—at Moby’s suggestion. It takes the edge off the ache, dulls the need a little. Makes me forget my dick entirely. And when I forget it, all I think about is Him. His pleasure. His body. His control. The few times when Moby unlocks me for a cleaning now, it almost feels uncomfortable. My…nub…has started to feel so sensitive, especially when the streams of water hit it from the shower head. I almost start begging Moby to put the cage back on right away so that things feel “normal” again.
There was one morning, after showering together, that Moby decided to leave the cage off to 1) let my nub breathe a bit, and 2) He had ordered a new, smaller cage which was going to arrive later that evening. He noticed a few days prior that I wasn’t completely filling in my previous cage which would cause my nub to grow semi-hard and cause me pain. He decided a smaller chastity cage would do me better. I remember feeling SO uncomfortable that entire day until the new cage arrived. It was extremely overstimulating feeling my dick rub against the inside of my briefs underwear—something I haven’t felt in a long time. I took a sigh of relief when Moby finally slipped the new cage on. I was at home again,
Moby also surprised me with something wild—a make-a-willy replica of Himself. An exact silicone version of His dick, down to every curve and vein. He handed it to me with a smirk and said, “Now you have something of Me to keep you company when I’m busy and gone.” It’s become my new favorite thing. When I’m desperate and horny, I’ll lie down on the bed, put my legs up, lube up my hole, and slide it in—imagining Him on top of me, whispering all the filthy things He’d say. And yeah… sometimes I get so wound up, my body will tremble and leak a bit, like it’s trying to cum without permission. It’s never quite satisfying, but that edge? That ache? It keeps me hungry for Him.
We’ve grown more comfortable leaning into the fantasy—roles, rituals, expectations. Moby has encouraged me to sit down when I pee now. That’s the only way I’m allowed to pee at home and out in public. It felt strange at first, but now it feels right. Intimate, even. He’ll sometimes come into the bathroom while I’m sitting there, kiss my neck, or murmur something teasing in my ear. And sometimes—this part is so hot—he’ll stand right in front of me, unzip, pull out His plump, flaccid cock and pee into the toilet between my spread legs. Never on me, never without my consent. Just a quiet display of dominance, this unspoken moment where I sit and submit while He stands and releases, and I look up at Him and feel… so perfectly beneath Him in the best way as I listen to his pee hit the pool of water in the bowl—something I can no longer do.
I have to confess something that happened one of the last times that Moby did that. After He was done pissing, and before He put His cock away, Moby stood there for a bit with His penis dangling in front of my mouth. Almost teasing me. There was a drop of urine still hanging onto the tip of His dick. It made me feel…some sort of way. Moby must have noticed me staring because He looked me in the eye, nodded His head as if to say, “It’s alright, go ahead,” and I leaned forward and gently wrapped my mouth around the glands of His penis and sucked that last drop of pee off. I felt a tingle go down my spine. It tasted slightly salty but surprisingly better than I had imagined. He zipped up, gave me a smirk, a pat on the head and walked off.
That whole day He didn’t fuck me, and it drove me crazy. That night when I sat down to pee again, Moby walked into the bathroom and just looked at me and my locked nub. It was a kind of look that I hadn’t seen on His face before. I felt exposed. It made my stomach churn in the best way possible. He got closer, slowly began unbuckling His pants—still staring at me. He slid His pants down to His feet, then His boxers, and His cock flopped out. His dick was soft but looking somewhat plump. He bent down to my ear and whispered, “I chugged a ton of water and have been needing to piss so bad for the past 3 hours, baby. Do you wanna be my good boy and be my urinal?” I froze for a second not knowing how to respond. He had never asked that before. I filled with confusion and excitement. All I could say was, “Yes, Sir.”
He gently put His hand on the back of my head and pulled me in. He first slid the tip of His cock into my mouth and then slowly began filling my throat with the rest of His shaft. He held my head firm against His pubes. Once He was all the way in, I felt Him twitch inside me as He said, “Get ready, baby.” I felt a warm stream of liquid hit the back of my throat. It started slow at first and then got stronger. It was so warm. My instincts kicked in and I just began swallowing. I didn’t taste much because He was so far in. I felt His dick twitch some more in my mouth as His steady stream of piss turned into a slow trickle before dying off completely. He slowly pulled out of my mouth and kissed me as He said, “Now that’s my good boy.” I melted. Now I was really horny. Moby could tell.
Without either one of us saying a word, I opened my mouth again and Moby slid inside me. I felt His cock grow bigger and harder in my mouth. Soon He got hard all the way and filled up the back of my throat. He gripped the back of my head and started sliding in and out all the way. I let Moby face fuck me until He got close to cumming. Once He got close, He shoved my head all the way onto His cock and started deep thrusting. I couldn’t breathe as his pubes tickled my nose. I felt His penis tense up right before it began to pulse violently. He let out a deep moan. Thick, warm ropes of semen hit the back of my throat. I swallowed it all.
The other night, something happened that still lingers in my mind—in the warmest, most blissed-out way.
After Moby finished fucking me…again, like He does every night—deep, steady thrusts that left me panting and full—we curled up on the couch to watch some TV. I was still stretched open and aching in the best way, feeling the warmth of Him inside me even as we settled in to cuddle. His load still inside me. He must’ve still felt it. That pulse of hunger. Because out of nowhere, He leaned in, nuzzled behind my ear, and slid His hand under the waistband of my shorts.
Without a word, He tugged them down. Then my underwear. I just lifted my hips, like it was instinct. He ran a single finger over my hole—slow, circling, teasing. I shivered. My body still felt raw, sensitive, but open. Inviting.
He slid His finger in slowly. Then another. And another. His movements were deep, purposeful, and unhurried—like He knew exactly where to press. And when He found my sweet spot—God, Sam—he stayed there. My nub was untouched, but I felt everything radiate from the inside out. My legs shook. My breath hitched. And I came. Hard. Just from His fingers.
But He wasn’t done.
I barely had time to catch my breath before He pulled me onto my knees, bent me over the couch cushions, and lined Himself up behind me. The way He slid inside—deep, slow, claiming—it made me whimper. I was already wrecked, but I needed more. He gave it to me. He took His time, then picked up pace—long, firm strokes that filled me completely. I pushed back into Him, desperate, matching His rhythm. Every thrust sent little shockwaves through me. I lost track of time, lost track of everything except the sound of Him groaning behind me and the feeling of Him gripping my waist like I was His to take. And I am.
He finished again—harder this time, with a low growl and a body-shaking shudder. I felt His penis pulse as He dumped a second load of cum inside me.
We collapsed together, tangled and spent, the TV still playing in the background. He held me against His chest, His arms wrapped around me like He never wanted to let go. And I fell asleep like that, still full of Him. Still warm. Still glowing.
I think I’ve never felt more wanted in my life. And more mine—in the way that means belonging to someone who sees all of you and loves what they see.
More soon,
Johnny
Can you see how Master Moby is slowly, almost seductively leading Johnny to embrace his place and purpose more and more every day. Some of the things mentioned here are small (like Master Moby giving Johnny permission to lick off the droplet of piss from his dick), but then they turn into major acts of dominance and submission that deepen their bonds as Master and faggot.
I love the way Master Moby cherishes his faggot enough to unlock him and wash him, all the while diminishing Johnny’s status by calling it a “nub” and then locking it in a smaller cage. And Johnny’s description of being out of chastity is very familiar to me; I experienced that same feeling when I was imprisoned!
But one thing this experience should reinforce in Johnny’s heart is this: his Master loves and cherishes him. That final breeding, full of passion and warmth, is something an Alpha gives only to those who deeply please him!
I’m so happy for both of them for experiencing these deeper levels of hierarchy!
