Bark, Bitch

He drops to his knees before he can think twice. She stands over him in black leather, the blonde of her hair catching the low light like a blade. Derrick’s already hard, cock straining against the thin strip of leather she cinched around the base earlier. She smiles, but there’s no warmth in it, just the promise of pain he asked for. "Bark," she says. He hesitates. Her gloved hand clamps his balls, twisting slowly until the air punches out of his lungs. He barks. Raw. Ugly. She laughs once, short and sharp, then tightens her grip until the bark turns into a whine. The brunette sitting on the couch behind her spreads her legs and watches, two fingers already inside herself. The dominatrix kicks his knees wider, heels sharp on the floor. She slaps his cock twice, open palm, just enough to make it bob and sting. He gasps but stays upright. She leans in close enough for him to smell the leather and sweat on her skin. "Louder," she whispers. This time he howls. The brunette moans from the couch, hips rocking against her hand. The dominatrix nods once, satisfied, then reaches for the thin cord that runs from his balls to the ring around his cock. She gives it a tug that pulls everything tight and cruel. He barks again without being told, voice cracking, throat raw, because anything less will cost him more than he wants to pay.