Hanging Chad

She works the swollen head of Chad’s cock with slow, cruel strokes. The blond virgin hangs helpless in tight ropes, wrists pinned overhead, ankles lashed apart. Every nerve screams, yet the moment her hand glides too close to the finish line, Chad bucks and whines. She laughs, low and flat. “Eyes on me.” She takes him right to the brink, then clamps two fingers at the base of his shaft, cutting the pulse dead. His breath punches out; his balls twitch but nothing leaves. “Sit still.” One heartbeat later she starts again, harder, wetter, the sound of skin on skin sharp in the room. Chad shakes the ropes. She slaps his thigh, nails raking pink lines. “You asked for this, boy.” A bead of clear slick hangs from his slit. She catches it on her tongue, shows him, then spits it back over the head so she can smear it down until he’s glossy and straining. The edge builds again, hot, unstoppable. She stops. He sobs. She smiles.