🔗 justfor.fans/ZackDeclan
Yesterday was Halloween, and I couldn’t wait to finally get out and have some fun. Declan had told me earlier that we’d hit Church Street and check out the bars, so the moment I got home from work, I rushed to get ready.
He’d already laid my outfit out on the couch ,a tight orange prisoner costume. I was about to change into it, but he told me to slow down, finish my drink first, and chill while he “handled something on his phone.”
If you know Sir Declan, you know this, when he’s quiet and focused, it usually means he’s plotting something. And he never warns me.
A few minutes later, he said, “Babe, come to the room.”
The lights were set up already on bright like he was about to film a scene.
I asked, “What’s with the setup? Aren’t we going out?”
Before I could even process it, he made me kneel in front of the jail cage, cuffed my hands above my head, and locked them to the top bars.
He leaned down and said calmly, “Honestly, I’m not sure if I want you going out tonight.”
Then, knock knock.
Someone was at the door.
Declan smiled, grabbed a carved pumpkin, and shoved it over my head. My world went dark except for a hole where my mouth was. I could barely hear or breathe through the thick shell, only muffled sounds.
I heard the front door open. Then metal clicking. Another pair of cuffs.
When Declan came back, he said, “A buddy’s here, he’s handcuffed to the wall in the living room. You’ve been a good boy lately, Zack. So tonight, I’m gonna use you while I cuck him.”
That’s when he shoved his cock down my throat through the mouth hole of the pumpkin. His hips slammed against the pumpkin’s rim as I gagged and drooled, completely blind and restrained.
When he came, his load sprayed inside the pumpkin, hitting my beard, my lips, and even my eye through the cutout. I was left there dripping, unable to wipe it off, while he went back to the other room.
About 30 minutes later, he returned, laughing when he saw my eye swollen and red. “You got cum-eye, bitch. Looks like pink eye now.”
He wrapped a chain around my waist, pad locked it, zip-tied my hands to it, and shoved me into the cage. The cell door closed with a click, and then I heard the distinct snap of a serial tag zip-lock, no escape.
He uses ziptags when he leaves the house while I’m locked away, so that if any emergency happens, I can get away but he will know that the serial number ziptag was tampered with.
“You’re in for the night,” he said. “I’m heading out with the guy for Halloween.”
He turned on the Blue Jays game, shut the bedroom door, and left.
When he came home around 2 a.m., I felt his lips press through the bars, kissing me before cutting the zip ties. Then he replaced the zip lock with a padlock on the door, smirked, and went to bed.
This morning, before leaving for work, he unlocked the padlock and said only:
“Have dinner ready tonight. Clean the house. I left the guy’s underwear on the couch, full of cum. Guess who’s cum! Enjoy.”
So yeah, Halloween ended, Locktober ended, but my chastity didn’t.
It’s November 1st, and I’ve officially entered No Nut November.
My next bail hearing for release is set for December 1st.
Hope your Halloween was wild, just maybe not as locked-up as mine. 🎃
X/🦋: @jktoronto11
🎁 Declan’s Throne:
throne.com/jktoronto11
Watch it all now on JFF for a full video:
🔗 justfor.fans/ZackDeclan
“He Said ‘Let’s Cuddle’… Then Threw Me in the Cage”
⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥⛓️💥
Earlier this week was one of those non-stop, soul-draining days at the office. I woke up tired and spent the whole day in meetings, calls, and dealing with everyone else’s problems. By mid-afternoon, I texted Declan saying I couldn’t wait to get home, relax, watch a movie, and cuddle in his arms.
He simply replied:
“Yes, let’s do that, babe.”
That message kept me going. I left work, stopped to grab dinner, and finally walked through the door thinking I was about to have a quiet night.
I put the food down, took off my shoes, and went into the living room to greet my boyfriend. Like I do every single day, I dropped to my knees in front of him without even thinking. It’s second nature now, I kneel, remove his socks, and start kissing his feet. The smell of his workday hit me instantly, a mix of leather, sweat, and warmth. My tongue traced over the tops of his feet, across the arches, and down to the soles.
I could taste the salt and feel the roughness of his skin as I sucked each toe slowly, one by one, while my tongue circled between them. His toes flexed a few times, little signs that he liked it, but he didn’t say a word. He just leaned back, watching his show, occasionally glancing down to make sure I was still at work.
After about twenty minutes, my jaw was starting to ache, and I tried to shift or stand up. That’s when I felt it, his hand suddenly grabbing a fistful of my hair.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Mouth back on my toes and shut up.”
My breath caught. That tone hit hard.
Without another word, I went right back to it, licking, sucking, and massaging his feet in silence. The only sounds were the TV and the wet sounds coming from my mouth. I stayed there for another thirty minutes, completely ignored, existing only as his footrest and toy.
Eventually, he said casually,
“Go get me a drink.”
When I got up, my knees cracked. I went to the kitchen, made his drink, and took it to him. He didn’t even look up, just took it from my hand, and I quietly walked to the bedroom to change out of my dress clothes.
I was unbuttoning my shirt when he suddenly appeared in the doorway. He didn’t smile.
“In the cage. Now. Don’t make me repeat it.”
I froze.
My heart dropped because I had no idea what was coming. I really thought we were going to cuddle.
But his expression told me otherwise, this was serious.
As I crawled into the cage, he followed me in with a few items. My stomach turned when I saw what they were: cuffs, a hood, shackles, and a gag.
He said, almost casually:
“A guy named Anthony, the one who paid to extend your chastity for another month, also bought a punishment from my throne. You might not like it, but it is what it is.”
Then he listed what was requested:
👀 Hooded
👀 Gagged
👀 Kneeling
👀 Balls cuffed to the jail cell
👀 Hands handcuffed
He placed the hood over my head, muffling everything. I could barely see or hear. My wrists were cuffed in front of me to the cage, my knees pressed into the floor, and my balls were cuffed through the bars so I couldn’t move more than a few inches. Then he shackled my ankles and looped the chain through the bars, forcing my legs backward until I was completely locked in place, kneeling, bent forward, my face pressed near the bars, unable to move, my breath echoing inside the hood.
I heard him step back and say quietly, almost amused,
“That’s better.”
Time became meaningless. I had no idea how long I’d been restrained. Every sound felt amplified, his footsteps, the TV in the background, even the sound of him pouring a drink somewhere nearby.
Every now and then he’d come over and tease me, tugging at my balls or giving them a quick slap before walking away again.
Then suddenly I felt something cold. A hand spreading something across my balls.
And then it hit.
🔥 A535 cream.
The burn was instant, a deep, searing pain that made me gasp into the gag. I tried to pull back, but the cuffs held me tight. My entire body shook. It was unbearable, and he knew it. I could hear him laughing softly as he walked away.
That hour felt endless.
At times I tried to fight it, other times I just gave up and knelt there shaking and sweating, drooling into the gag while the burn consumed me.
Eventually, I heard another sound, one that didn’t make sense at first. A second voice. A quiet moan.
Declan wasn’t alone.
Through the hood I could hear him, the sound of his belt, the deep grunts, the rhythm.
He was getting a blowjob.
Someone else was on their knees, servicing him while I was caged and burning.
He came hard, I heard it, I felt the tone in his voice change when he finished.
But I wasn’t allowed to see who it was.
When he finally removed the hood and cuffs later that night, he just smiled down at me and said,
“You’ll find out eventually.”
Two days before, I learned that I’ll be participating in No Nut November, and that more punishments are already lined up.
That’s my life.
The life of a slave boyfriend, owned, used, and kept locked for the man I love. 🖤
🩵 Many other features from custom punishments, cage extensions, edging sessions, and slave requests can be chosen directly from Sir Declan’s Throne or through the JFF Store.
🎁 Declan’s Throne: throne.com/jktoronto11
🔗 punishments available at our JFF store: justfor.fans/ZackDeclan
Hierarchy 291 – Assisting Latent Alphas
Faggots, you CAN help Alphas recover their Alphahood!
SITE: https://hierarchypodcast.com/hierarchy-291-assisting-latent-alphas/
SPOTIFY: https://open.spotify.com/show/2TqhwaNl7kdcyZXK7YL5FV?si=1Trk3AbJTH6UWx1UVRYMrw
AMAZON: https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/b09c451b-5400-481c-b69e-85463cf2e84c/the-hierarchy-podcast
APPLE: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-hierarchy-podcast/id1778739988
This was a sad-but-familiar story I found on Facebook and reproduced it here for posterity. It’s a real-life BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN in some respects, and just as haunting.
They loved each other for decades, captured it all on film, and then had to pretend they were just friends.
In a small Canadian town called Havelock—the kind of place where everyone knows your name and your business—two men built a life together that couldn’t be spoken aloud.
Len Keith came from money. His father was a successful businessman, and Len himself served in World War I before returning home to open a garage in the 1920s. He was respectable, industrious, the kind of man small towns celebrate. He was also in love with another man.
Joseph “Cub” Coates came from humbler roots. He was a harness racing driver with rough hands and a quiet presence, a fellow war veteran trying to make his way. What he lacked in privilege, he made up for in heart.
And somehow, in a world that could destroy them for it, they found each other.
Len had a camera. In the 1920s and ’30s, he took photographs—not the formal, stiff portraits common to the era, but candid shots that captured something more. Two men standing close, bodies relaxed in each other’s presence. Two men who looked at each other the way people look at home.
These weren’t accidental photos. They were deliberate acts of documentation, quiet rebellions against erasure. In a time when being gay could cost you your job, your home, your freedom, even your life, Len was creating evidence that they existed. That what they had was real.
They couldn’t have the things other couples took for granted. No mortgage in both names. No wedding. No public acknowledgment. Just stolen moments and a small town that couldn’t know the truth.
Because the truth was dangerous.
Sometime in the 1930s or 1940s, suspicion grew too loud. Len was forced to leave Havelock. The photographs stop. The story fractures.
By 1940, Cub married a woman.
We’ll never know how much of that was survival instinct, and how much was a heart forced to move on. What we do know is this: their friend John Corey kept the photographs. He called them boyfriends. And decades later, he donated those images to the Archives of Ontario, ensuring that Len and Cub wouldn’t be forgotten.
Those black-and-white snapshots are now some of the rare surviving evidence of queer love in early 20th-century Canada. They show us men who loved each other when loving each other was criminal. Men who found joy in the margins. Men who deserved the world but got only what they could hide.
In 2022, researchers Meredith J. Batt and Dusty Green published Len and Cub: A Queer History (Goose Lane Editions), piecing together their story from photographs, records, and the fragments history left behind. It’s a book about love, yes—but also about loss, erasure, and the quiet bravery of living authentically when the world demands you disappear.
Len and Cub never got to grow old together publicly. They never got matching monogrammed towels or a dog or a front porch where neighbors waved. They got secrecy, separation, and silence.
But they also got something powerful: each other, for as long as they could.
And now, because someone cared enough to preserve their story, they get to be remembered—not as rumors or footnotes, but as what they were.
Two men who loved each other. Two men who mattered.
Their story reminds us that queer people have always existed, have always loved, have always fought to carve out space for joy even when the world offered only shame. And it reminds us that every photograph, every letter, every scrap of evidence we preserve is an act of resistance against forgetting.
Len and Cub deserved better than the world gave them.
But at least now, they have this: their story, told in full. Their love, finally spoken aloud.
😔
The following post is part of a thread celebrating the emergence of Master Bolt, an Alpha who was trapped in the cycle of Alpha latency until a recent discovery rescued him! CLICK HERE to read all posts in this thread in chronological order!
Alpha latency is something I’ve pioneered and studied extensively. It’s a very real phenomenon among Men, and when left untreated (through information and coaching) it can be one of the saddest things to ever happen to a Man. Alpha latency robs a natural-born Alpha of his inborn purpose to lead and be worshiped. It robs him of his power by tricking him into thinking it doesn’t exist. AWFUL!
Recovering Alphas from Alpha latency has been one of the great unexpected joys of running this site over 10 years. I didn’t even conceive of anything like Alpha latency when I started this thing back then, but my efforts to restore these latent Alphas has given me a wealth of information and tremendous happiness for both myself and them. Alphas who escape Alpha latency are like beaten-down lions who have spent their entire lives in a cage and are suddenly set free. The sunburst of power radiating from them lights up the world, and infinite landscapes of conquerable territory suddenly become their hunting grounds. It’s magnificent to experience, even from my limited vantage point.
There have been some intense stories I’ve covered of this radical change. For instance, there was this one straight Alphas who, after escaping Alpha latency, immediately went out and bred three faggots in one day! He was shocked at how easily these faggots obeyed and succumbed to his newfound Alpha power! Or there’s the case of Master Cal, who wasn’t fully a latent Alpha (but very close) who now fully lives an Apex Alpha life with personal faggots and women bearing him children. It’s VERY real, and it’s exactly what these great Men need to THRIVE!
The latest example comes from the Hierarchy University Discord (why aren’t you joined up? CLICK HERE!). It involves a furry named Bolt who has, just within the last few weeks, discovered he was actually born an Alpha! While I had very little to do with his processing, he shared it with the server and gave me permission to share his triumph:
So all my post-pubescent life I’ve known I’m gay and have always been attracted to masculinity and power and domination. I work hard in the gym and compete in bodybuilding competitions and love seeing other massive guys grow as well. My favorite type of porn revolves around size difference, comparisons, power disparities, and domination scenes.
For years I always thought I was a fag for these feelings. I allowed myself to be a bottom and tried to submit to other men.
But recently, I learned that I am NOT a fag. I was just confused. I’ve realized that I don’t want to BE dominated by a man. I want TO dominate a lesser being.
Ive realized I want the control the physical and mental aspects of a fag and rewrite them to serve me.
In the last two weeks I’ve been on a crazy power trip bender. I went from being a pathetic omega to a sex-crazed top. I fucked the life out of three guys yesterday alone. I was just bored and demanded they prepare themselves for me in each case. 10-20 mins late, I pull up, drop my pants, rail them on the bed, the floor, against the wall or window, leave them cunted and bred, and dip out.
I already got one of the fags buying me food and shit and I just started messaging him two days ago.
I am fucking DRUNK off this sense of power and entitlement. I feel a rush every time I do something now. I feel bigger, better, and more confident than I ever have in my life.
All of this started during a hook up where something in me switched and stayed that way. Instead of submitting, I broke a poser who pretended to be an Alpha. He disgusted me. I will never subject myself to the wishes or whims of a lesser being.
I am Alpha Bolt. And I’m here now.
AWESOME!
In most cases, a slight alteration in thinking is all that’s needed for a latent Alpha to literally explode with power! But that slight alteration is sometimes hard to make, because the programming that has been blocking the Alpha is so deeply embedded in his psyche.
You can HEAR Master Bolt’s spinetingling excitement and joy at this discovery within himself. It’s like suddenly discovering you’ve had a winning lottery ticket in your wallet for your entire life!
I’m so happy for Master Bolt, and excited for his future reign!
