Whinny Whimper

Lauren Phillips has you bound and she’s not letting up. She drags a fat strap-on into view and lets you stare at it while her toes press against your face. The leather cuffs bite. You kiss each painted nail because she tells you to, and every lick earns you another cruel little smile. She runs the head of that cock up your crack, then pulls away just when your hips try to chase it. She laughs once, low, and slides her bare sole over your twitching cock instead, slow enough to make your balls ache. You’re not allowed to beg. You’re not allowed to finish. She keeps you right there on the edge while the dungeon light catches on the spit you left on her toes and the sweat rolling down her thighs. She’ll fuck you when she feels like it. Until then, all you get is the ache, the heel digging into your sternum, and the promise of that thick length waiting for a single word you’re forbidden to say.