Anti Anxiety Deprivation

Got a gimp trussed up tight to my bed. He can’t even twitch. One twitch of rope and that’s all he gets. I drag a feather over his hard, circumcised cock until the head glistens, then I stand up and walk out. Silence. When the door clicks again I wrap a fist around the thick base and pump it once, hard. He strains, desperate for more, but I’m already gone. Big black hair falls across my eyes when I lean back in, watch the vein throb, and swipe the feather over the slit like a dare. Again. Stroke. Pause. He swells thicker every time I come back. I never let him finish. He’s just meat waiting to be used, and every drop he leaks is mine.