After a long session of torment in our dimly lit dungeon, my mistress friend and I stand smugly over our slave, bound to a wooden cross. His cock, whipped relentlessly, is now purple and bruised, a testament to his endurance. We laugh, pleased with his performance. He deserves a reward, dont you think? my friend whispers with a wicked grin. We decide to treat him, but in our own twisted way.We tease him slowly, our skilled hands alternating with the intense buzz of the magic wand. He groans, caught between pleasure and pain, his body trembling under our touch. With cruel precision, we push him to the edge and grant him a ruined orgasma stifled release that twists into a pang of agony. His confused expression makes us burst into laughter. Not quite a reward, huh? I taunt, as his cock throbs in pain.We untie him from the cross, letting him collapse to his knees, gasping. Were not done, I say sharply. Pointing to the cum on the floor, we order him to lick it all up, every last drop. He obeys, his face contorted, while we watch, amused. A half-hearted gift, I remark. A ruined orgasm is more pain than pleasure! Our laughter echoes through the room as we revel in our total control and dominance over him.
