Maitresse Madeline returns with a vengeance!

I did this on purpose. Just to watch you break. Your clumsy worship was dulling me, so I gave you the one thing you couldn't stand: silence. No words. No touch. Nothing. I let you choke on that empty air until you begged like the stray you are. I read every pitiful message. Amused. Not moved. Then I decided you'd had enough of the dark. Time to remember who owns the air you breathe. Tyler was first. Young muscle, thick foreskin, cock already twitching before I even touched him. I rose up from the Armory steps and the sound of my heels sent his pulse skittering. I toyed with him slow, hands, tongue, the soft drag of lips along his shaft until he was granite hard. Then I flipped the switch. Flogger. Cat. Open palm across his face. I twisted that uncut head until he yelped, then bent him over my knee and painted his ass red. Every strike said the same thing: you are here because I allow it. When his skin was blazing I reached for the strap. No warm-up. Just slick lube and one deep thrust that nailed his prostate so hard his eyes rolled back. I fucked him mean and steady, rocking him between the edge and the void until his cock jumped and spat without a single stroke from me. Thick ropes across his stomach while I laughed. I even thought about letting that fat dick stretch me, but I wanted to prove a point. I sat on his face, smothered him with cunt and ass, let him earn the right to breathe. Then I pressed the Hitachi to his swollen head and slid a finger back inside, massaging that gland in lazy circles until he was leaking steady. Right when he thought he'd earned my pussy I pulled away, pinned his prostate with one fingertip, and watched him spill again, helpless, ruined, grateful. You really thought I'd fuck him? Cute. You pictured yourself in his place, didn't you? Same weak cock, same stupid hope. Keep watching. Maybe you'll last longer than he did. Maybe not. Either way, knees. Now.