Training To Failure

How many weights until he cracks? She wants tears. She wants him shaking and begging. One on. Two on. Three. A twisted little rhyme for a twisted little game. She builds it slow, lets the dread sink in. Her blonde hair falls forward as she leans in, watching every twitch, every breath he tries to hide. Bondage keeps him spread and helpless, wrists locked, legs trembling. She’s the doctor tonight, the dominatrix in a white coat, all sharp edges and calm cruelty. Every added weight drags his cock down, pulls it into pain that blurs with need. Edging without mercy. He’s hard, straining, leaking, and she just smiles. Next weight. Next denial. She’ll keep going until his voice cracks and his body betrays him. No escape. Only her rules. Only her pleasure in his ruin.