Icy Hot: THe Meanest Thing I've Ever Done

Two words. Icy Hot. On dick. I lube him up with it and his breathing breaks in half. The sting hits hard, then the heat claws after it. He’s bound tight and he stays bound. I stroke him through the burn. Slow at first, tight grip, enough friction to keep the fire alive. He strains, leaks, fights. I twist the head, working the balm in like I want it tattooed under his skin. Every pump drags a new sound out of him. I let him think the shower can save him. Then I shut that hope down with one long, merciless pull. The blindfold hides his eyes, not his pain. His beard scratches the pillow when he thrashes. I keep the rhythm steady, cruel, almost tender. 2024 and the rules still say a girl can keep a circumcised boy crying on her couch. He shakes under my hand like he might beg. I smile. The balm stays hot. He stays mine. That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever done to him.