St. Andrew’s Cross Pegging Domination – Mars Solo’s New St. Andrew’s Cross Was a Fierce and Heavy Presence, Eager to Test the Li

My new St. Andrew’s Cross looms in the center of the basement, all thick, black-lacquered timber and shining steel anchors. I spent half a Saturday assembling it and another three hours perfecting its place in the room, so it catches the light from every angle, announcing itself as the centerpiece of all future torments and ecstasies. This cross is not built for half-measures; it exists to humble, to stretch and shudder bodies until they crack open with pleasure or Strapon knows this—knows, and has been eyeing it since he came home thirty minutes ago. Mars circles it, boots clapping on concrete. I gesture, and he faces the cross, spreading his arms and legs wide, pressing his chest into its cool embrace. I step back for a moment, taking in the view and lubing up my cock the curve of his back, already shivering, the ass that’s the real reason we’re both here tonight. The room feels smaller now, made intimate by his surrender and the cross’s insistent gravity. The cross has made him a c