Gleefully Ruined

Cock locked for who knows how long and now he’s finally here, whining about it. He begs for touch, eyes wet, body trembling like he might break if he doesn’t spill. I like the way he looks when he’s this desperate, so I lean in. Fingers trace the steel. Close enough he can feel my breath. I give the cage a slow stroke and watch him flinch. Every little squeeze keeps him swollen and aching. The second he starts to think it’s ending, I unlock the cage. Nothing kind about it. One firm tug and the load spits out—wasted, wasted hard—exactly the way I planned.