Diesel Punk Novels & Stories

“The other apps were created to support financial dynamics. People can list their expectations, payment terms, even preferred tribute types. They’re structured for findommes, finsubs, cash pigs, sugar dynamics, all of it. It’s clear, intentional, and above all, consensual with financial boundaries defined.” Nathan nods in agreement, adding, “Daddies Underground was never meant to fall into that category. It was created to help people in the lifestyle connect on a deeper level. It’s not a financial transaction service, it’s about experiences, trust-building, relationships. Sure, people can contribute what they want toward events or gift one another, but it was never meant to become transactio

Lynn cut the link and redialed instantly. The line picked up on the second ring with a loud crash on the other end. "Fuck," the voice groaned, rough and deep. "Hello, this is Buck Clattermoor. What is the emergency?" "My Silver Basin Chamber is spraying water everywhere," Lynn snapped into the link. "Get your tail up here right now." "What den number?" Buck asked, coughing clear his throat. "Moon Den 369. Hurry up." "On my way," Buck said, and the line went dead.

Ryan and Derek both yelled at the same time. “Pearl Jam is great,” Derek snapped. “So’s Outkast and Beck.” “Show some respect,” Ryan admonished her. “Fuckin’ has-beens,” Riley yelled back at them. “There’s over fifty indie acts, too,” Miles said. “Why can’t you get us in Riot Fest?” Riley complained. “Because Riot Fest is punk bands.” “We’re punk!” “No we’re not,” Ryan said. “We’re rock, not punk.” “I’M punk!”

Chapter 3: Bent Over the Greasy Hood and Flooded with Thick Mechanic Cum Diesel’s powerful hips slammed forward again and again, driving his massive, oil-slick cock deep into Jake’s stretched hole. The truck hood creaked loudly under Jake’s ass with every brutal thrust. Their sweaty, grease-streaked bodies slapped together obscenely, the wet sounds echoing through the sweltering garage. “Fuck… taking me so deep,” Diesel growled, eyes locked on where his thick shaft disappeared into Jake’s greedy hole. “Look at that pretty ass swallowing every inch of my fat mechanic dick. So sloppy and shiny with oil and precum.”

Then I head down the street toward the club. The moment I reach the gate, the guy on duty looks me over. Diesel, I think his name is. “Back again?” He tilts his head and opens the gate. “Told you, I grew up in Hells Chrome. I miss it.” He chuckles. “That place went to shit.” “Yeah, I know. Everyone’s either dead or locked up.” He doesn’t say anything else, so I walk in. Inside, it’s busy but nowhere near as packed as it gets in the evenings. I head straight to the bar and sit down.

Diesel said, as he leant against the glass between us “slipped some tendrils through the air-holes and killed them. I woke up the next morning to see them on the ground, all shrivelled up.” Before I could question him further, Diesel was approached by a girl who studied his plaque. Her long, blonde hair had been tied up into a pony tail, and she wore a simple green dress, studded down the front in a military style. She looked like no fighter. “Come for some fun?” Diesel taunted her “step inside. I bet you can’t take me.” She called over an armed man who came over to open the door. Diesel approached the girl then shook her hand, giving her time to make sure she was completely ready. When she

One choice that changes everything. Diesel is the storm the city fears. A man of cold leather, dark ink, and eyes that see through every lie Daisy has ever told. He wasn’t part of her plan. He wasn’t part of the debt. But when he steps out of the darkness, Daisy realizes her "freedom" was just a cage waiting to be locked. Now, she’s caught between the thugs who want her dead and the biker who claims he’s her only hope. Diesel is a thief, a killer, and a monster in a hoodie—but he might be the only thing standing between Daisy and the men who want to break her.

Cole says, cracking open a soda can. “Which place?” Diesel asks from the beanbag, peeling off his dirty socks. “Lumen.” “No shit, genius,” Diesel responds, tossing a smelly sock at Cole. It smacks his chest before sliding onto my worn couch. “That place is basically one big orgy on a Saturday night.” Cole grabs the sock off the couch, sniffs it, then pulls a disgusted face and hurls it back at Diesel. Everyone laughs. “How do you know, bro?” he shoots back. “Ever visited?”

Elliot suggests, pushing the women touching him away "Definitely not" Caden replies and I understand. Remington is a Motherfucking son of a chicken. Weak, subservient and a good fucking bore to play around. "He literally peed his pant the day he got tagged" Vlad points out and Caden grinds his teeth I throw my dart again. Bullseye. Bullying is beneath us and life can get boring so we the VENOMS found nice ways of entertaining ourselves. Like tagging someone for punishment.

"They said you were mean. Didn't say you were late." Joseph smirked. "You must be Diesel." "Yeah." Diesel eyed Chris with a quick nod, then looked back at Joseph. "We're set up inside. Follow me." The place stank of beer, stale cigarettes, and fried meat. The regulars, mostly grizzled men with sun-damaged skin and scarred knuckles, looked up from their drinks but didn't move. Diesel led them to a back room with a pool table, two couches, and a small bar. The rest of the gang was already there—six guys, all wearing Iron Fangs patches.