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[English]I carefully strap the dildo harness around his wais..
🕑 Added 2025-04-01 18:42:30 +0000 UTC[English]
I carefully strap the dildo harness around his waist, tightening the straps. A beautiful toy, much bigger, much more impressive than him. I adjust its position, run my fingers lightly over its surface, then sit back and look at him with a smirk. "Look at you, you look ridiculous." His cheeks flush. He doesn’t respond, but I see him shiver beneath me. So I begin. Slowly, my fingers glide over the dildo, gripping it gently, stroking it… as if it were really him. I squeeze, I stroke, slowly, methodically. And him? He freezes. His breathing quickens. I can almost hear the thoughts racing in his head. His caged body struggles against its own desire. Is this for him? Will he finally get something this time? I let him hope for a few seconds. Just long enough for him to believe it. Then, my fingers leave the toy and slowly trail down to his caged balls, barely brushing against them with my nails. Not enough to give him anything. Just enough to tease his frustration even more. His body trembles with a mix of desire and despair, and me… I savor every second. Because I know he’ll keep hoping. Again and again. And I’ll keep playing.
[Français]
Je lui attache soigneusement le gode-ceinture autour de la taille, serrant bien les lanières. Un beau jouet, bien plus gros, bien plus impressionnant que lui. J’ajuste la position, effleure la surface du bout des doigts, puis je me redresse et l’observe avec un sourire en coin. "Regarde-toi, tu es ridicule." Ses joues rougissent. Il ne répond pas, mais je le vois frissonner sous moi. Alors je commence. Lentement, mes doigts glissent sur le gode, l’empoignent avec douceur, le caressent… comme si c’était vraiment lui que je touchais. Je serre, je le masturbe, lentement, méthodiquement. Et lui ? Il se fige. Son souffle s’accélère. Je peux presque entendre les pensées tourner dans sa tête. Son corps en cage lutte contre son propre désir. Est-ce que c’est pour lui ? Est-ce que, cette fois, il aura quelque chose ? Je le laisse espérer, quelques secondes. Juste assez pour qu’il y croie. Puis, mes doigts abandonnent le gode pour effleurer lentement ses boules, du bout des ongles, le plus légèrement possible. Pas assez pour lui offrir quoi que ce soit. Juste assez pour attiser encore plus sa frustration. Son corps tremble d’un mélange d’envie et de désespoir, et moi… moi, je savoure chaque seconde. Parce que je sais qu’il va continuer à espérer. Encore et encore. Et moi, je vais continuer à jouer.
