My Best Sub On Display

My caged deviant starts to whimper the second I step into the room. He can barely handle being near me. Every breath I take makes him twitch under the leather. I have him leashed and spread, thick straps cutting across his chest and digging into those heavy tits. His collar sits tight against his throat, silver ring catching the light, and his cock hangs locked and cut behind the bars—already dripping, already desperate. I run one finger down his straining shaft, then stop. He bucks like he wants more. Too bad. I own the pace. I lean close, my breath on his ear, and tell him what’s coming. Or not coming. He’ll find out when I decide, and not one second sooner.