Captive Audience of One

He’s gone. Trapped in a visor, body pinned to a chair like an offering, while the dominatrix works him over in the real world. A vision of blonde hair and black nylon glides between his spread legs. She rolls a sheer pantyhose thigh across his stiff shaft, slow, deliberate, letting the fabric drag heat along every vein. His cock jumps, circumcised head slick and purple, but she stops short of release, cruel thumb pressing just beneath the crown to seal him off. He strains, hips bucking, but the straps bite deeper. Her gloved hand pumps once, twice—then nothing, just a wicked smile as she leaves him throbbing. Every denied stroke tells him who owns the clock. He moans into the headset while she toys with his balls through the nylon, a mistress turning helpless flesh into her private show.