You Can't Get Away

He hangs there, arms and legs spread, ropes biting into his skin, feet barely brushing the floor. She steps between his thighs, wraps a fist around his cock, and strokes him slow and tight. Every glide of her palm pulls a wet sound from him. His balls ache, tight and heavy, every nerve screaming for release, but she stops each time the heat coils low and sharp. The edge slams into him, then recedes. Over and over. His hips jerk, useless. Nothing to push against except air and the cuffs digging into his wrists. A single drop slides down the flushed head, already spent and nowhere near done. She smiles, thumb circling the slick crown, teasing the line between pleasure and pain until his breath turns ragged and his whole body shakes. He can’t move an inch, can’t hide, can’t decide. She owns every throb, every denied pulse, every second he stays on the brink.