Mateo was a man of the plains, an Argentine whose rugged frame had been honed by years of taming the wild pampas. He ran a sprawling cattle ranch outside Buenos Aires, his hands rough from rope and reins, his voice a deep bellow that carried over the wind. By day, he was a rancher of iron will, driving herds and men alike with a glare that brooked no defiance. But when the sun sank below the horizon and the ranch settled into quiet, Mateo’s true reign emerged—a world where he stood as a gay master, his dominance as vast as the land he owned.

Tonight, that dominance would find a new focus. In a weathered barn at the edge of his property, its walls lined with hay and leather, Mateo prepared to assert his claim. His slave, Nicolás, waited in the dim light of a hanging lantern—a broad-shouldered man with skin kissed by the sun and an ass so enormous it seemed to defy the laws of nature. The air crackled with tension, a prelude to the absolute obedience Mateo demanded and Nicolás hungered to give.

The Barn of Discovery

Mateo pushed open the barn door, his boots thudding against the packed earth, the scent of hay and musk swirling around him. He stopped a few paces from Nicolás, his silhouette a towering figure against the lantern’s glow. The gay master’s eyes narrowed as they fell on his slave, kneeling with his back to the wall, his massive curves on full display. A powerful gay master encounters his slave with an enormous ass in this BDSM scene, and Mateo felt a surge of heat at the sight—those impressive mounds a challenge and a prize in one.

“Stand,” Mateo ordered, his Argentine accent thickening the words with command. Nicolás rose, his frame steady despite the weight of his own body, his eyes flickering with a mix of submission and pride. The slave gay master dynamic ignited with this bold discovery, a spark that flared as Mateo stepped closer, drawn to the sheer scale of Nicolás’s form. The gay master unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a chest carved by labor, and let it fall to the dirt—a signal of intent as clear as the crack of a whip.

“Look at you,” Mateo growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the barn. He circled Nicolás, his gaze tracing the slave’s curves, the enormous ass a magnet that pulled him in. This wasn’t just a body—it was a canvas, a testament to the power Mateo would wield tonight. The slave stood still, his breath shallow, awaiting the gay master’s next move in the required positions he’d been trained to hold.

The Claim of Control

Mateo stopped behind Nicolás, his hands hovering over the slave’s hips, the heat of his body radiating against those massive curves. “You’re mine,” he said, his tone a declaration as he gripped Nicolás’s waist, fingers sinking into flesh with possessive force. He takes control, drawn to the slave’s impressive curves, and Mateo did so with relish, his hands roaming, mapping every inch of the enormity before him. The gay master pressed himself closer, his chest against Nicolás’s back, his dominance a tangible weight that pinned the slave in place.

Nicolás gasped, his body trembling under Mateo’s touch, but he didn’t resist—couldn’t resist. The slave gay master dynamic burned with raw power, each movement a testament to Mateo’s authority and Nicolás’s surrender. “Bend,” Mateo commanded, and Nicolás obeyed, leaning forward, his enormous ass jutting out like an offering to the gods of the pampas. The gay master stepped back, his eyes glinting with satisfaction, and unfastened his belt, the clank of metal echoing through the barn.

He dropped his trousers, his cock springing free, already hard from the sight before him. “You’ll feel me,” Mateo said, his voice a growl as he positioned himself behind Nicolás. The gay master gripped the slave’s hips again, pulling him closer, and thrust forward—not with his body, but with intent, his hands slapping against that enormous ass, the sound a sharp crack in the stillness. This was the oath of obedience Nicolás had sworn, sealed in the flesh that Mateo now claimed.

A Master’s Dominion

The barn grew warmer, the air thick with the scent of hay and the musk of dominance. Mateo stepped around Nicolás, his hands never leaving the slave’s body, tracing the curves that had ignited this night. The gay master reveled in the control, his chest swelling with the thrill of ownership as Nicolás remained bent, submissive, his enormous ass a monument to Mateo’s power. The slave gay master scene pulsed with intensity, a fire stoked by the gay master’s will and the slave’s yielding.

“Down,” Mateo ordered, and Nicolás sank to his knees, the dirt floor rough against his skin. The gay master stood over him, his boots discarded earlier, his bare feet planted firmly on the ground. “Look at it,” he said, gesturing to the slave’s own body, the enormous ass still on display even in this position. Nicolás obeyed, his head turning slightly, his eyes catching the reflection of his curves in a cracked mirror leaning against the wall—a sight that deepened his submission under Mateo’s gaze.

Mateo knelt beside him, his hand cupping one massive cheek, squeezing with a force that left a faint red mark. “This is why I chose you,” he murmured, his voice a low hum of approval. The gay master’s touch was possessive, a sculptor shaping his material, and Nicolás was the clay—molded by the power of their bond. The slave gay master dynamic blended flesh and control, a raw discovery that consumed them both.

A Deeper Mark

Time blurred as Nicolás knelt, the weight of Mateo’s hand a constant anchor in the haze of submission. The gay master stood, his trousers still around his ankles, and paced the barn, his eyes never leaving the slave’s form. He wanted more than touch—he wanted to mark Nicolás in a way that would linger, a claim as permanent as the brands on his cattle. With a sudden movement, he stepped back, his hands moving to his cock, stroking briefly before shifting his intent.

“Stay,” Mateo barked, and Nicolás froze, his chest heaving, his enormous ass still thrust upward. The gay master unleashed a hard stream of piss, aiming it at the dirt just beside Nicolás, the golden arc splattering against the ground with a hiss. The my piss was deliberate, a liquid brand that filled the air with its sharp scent, underscoring Mateo’s dominance in a way no touch could. The slave gay master scene surged with raw control, the piss a bold stroke in their night’s canvas.

Nicolás watched, his body still, the puddle spreading toward his knees. “You’re mine,” Mateo said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he shook off the last drops. The gay master fastened his trousers, his stance relaxed but no less commanding, and gestured for Nicolás to rise. The gay slave obeyed, his legs trembling, his body marked by the hours of submission and the enormity that had drawn Mateo in.

The Final Assertion

Mateo had one last test, a finale ultimate examination to seal Nicolás’s surrender. He pointed to a wooden beam in the barn’s center, its surface rough with splinters. “Against it,” he commanded, his voice a blade in the quiet. Nicolás obeyed, pressing his chest to the beam, his enormous ass jutting out behind him, a target Mateo couldn’t resist. The gay master loomed closer, a rancher of control, his presence swallowing the lantern’s light.

Mateo stepped behind Nicolás, planting one hand on the slave’s hip, the other gripping a leather strap from a nearby harness. “You’ll take it all,” he said, his tone leaving no doubt. He swung the strap, the leather cracking against Nicolás’s massive curves, a sharp sound that echoed through the barn. The gay slave gasped, his body trembling under the sting, but he held his position, his submission a testament to the slave gay master dynamic that burned between them.

Mateo struck again, then again, each blow a mark of ownership, his eyes glinting with intent. “This is what you are,” he said, his voice a steady rhythm. “Mine to command. Mine to break. Mine to keep.” Nicolás moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered, his enormous ass red with the gay master’s claim. The barn pulsed around them, its walls a silent witness to their bold, carnal scene.

A Bond Forged in Flesh

When Mateo finally dropped the strap, Nicolás slumped against the beam, breathless and spent, his chest heaving against the rough wood. The gay master stood over him, his shirt discarded, his presence as unyielding as the plains outside. He reached down, brushing a rough hand against Nicolás’s cheek—a rare tenderness that softened the night’s brutality. “You’ve pleased me,” Mateo murmured, his tone a quiet reward. “But you’ll do better next time.”

Nicolás nodded, too exhausted to speak, his mind reeling from the intensity of their encounter. The slave gay master dynamic had carved itself into his being, a mark as permanent as the welts on his skin. Mateo turned away, leaving Nicolás against the beam, a silent promise hanging in the air—there would be more nights, more tests, more chances to prove his worth under the gay master’s rule.

As the barn fell silent, Nicolás closed his eyes, the sting of Mateo’s strap and the scent of his piss lingering around him. He was owned, claimed, and utterly devoted—a slave to a gay master whose dominance was as vast as the pampas they roamed. In that surrender, he found a twisted freedom, a purpose that would carry him through until the next call to submit.

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