Cum From Above

She stands over him. He’s naked on the hard floor, wrists locked in black cuffs, arms stretched above his head and chained to the ceiling. Her gloved hand drops between her thighs, then hovers inches above his straining cock. A single clear bead swells at the slit. Her fingers never touch. The glove stops, glossy and unyielding, letting the pre-cum stretch into a thin thread before it snaps and falls. Each time it lands on his skin, he jerks. His glasses fog with every panting breath. She smiles, slow and mean, keeps her hand right there, refusing to close the distance, letting the wet heat of her voice do the work instead. "Look at it twitch for me," she says. "It knows it isn’t getting anything until I decide it is."