Ballerina Blows You

She straps into that ballet get-up and watches his eyes go wide. One minute she’s just a girl in tights, the next she’s talking him down to the dungeon and into the steel chair. Cuffs bite his wrists and ankles. His cock’s already fighting the zipper. She films it all—slow, steady, clinical—tongue circling the tight, circumcised head like she’s got all night and the meter’s running. He’s edging without permission, muscles jumping every time she pulls away, every time she whispers that she needs a long take and he’s only got two minutes left in him. The camera catches the wet sound of her lips, the way his breath stutters, the way the chair creaks when he tries not to thrust. She doesn’t stop when he swears; she just smiles, resets the shot, and starts over.