Not Allowed to Feel

You’re strapped down tight. Arms spread. Legs open. Cock already twitching like some desperate animal. Chanel Preston walks in wearing head-to-toe black latex that creaks every time she moves. She looks down at your hard-on and laughs once—short, mean. Then the first slap lands across your balls. Sharp. She doesn’t warm you up. She just keeps hitting until your dick starts to flag. Every time it tries to stiffen again she smacks it harder, reminding you whose property it is. She edges you with nothing but denial and pain, never letting you ride the good part. One moment she’s stroking just enough to bring you close, the next she’s gone, leaving you straining in the air. When you leak, she catches it on her gloved finger and pushes it between your lips. Taste what you’re not allowed to feel. Your job is to stay hard only when she decides you deserve it, to hurt when she wants, to ache until she says otherwise. And she says otherwise a lot.