After Hours

Release or no release? I ask the same question again while the chain pulls tight against his wrists. He can't answer. Not with that gag in his mouth. Not when every nerve is screaming for what I keep pulling back. I slide my hand over the head of his cock, skin stretched tight and smooth where he's been cut clean. Then I stop. Let go. Watch him twitch in the air like he thinks that's the moment. It's not. Blonde hair falls across my face as I lean in close, drag the chain higher, force his arms back until the steel bites. My fingers circle again. Slower this time. Grip. Stroke. Stop. His hips lift off the table chasing the edge I keep ripping away. I laugh, low in my throat. Call him my favorite toy for the night. Because I can. Because the chains make him nothing more than meat to play with. Because sometimes the bondage gets so good I want to see how long before he breaks. He shakes. Twists. I keep him right there. Right on it. No finish. No mercy. Just me deciding when the lights go off and whether he gets anything at all before morning.