cock cage, orgasm denial, ruined orgasm
praedator! sylus who was sat down on a chair for an investigation, wrists held tight around his back by cuffs that his beloved enforcer graciously placed on him. He was whole-heartedly ready to keep his mouth shut and spilling sarcastically erotic words for this investigation but yet again, his enforcer was full of surprises. You chose to make this investigation a hands-on one, it seemed.
praedator! sylus whose saliva drools down the corner of his lips from all the ruthless teasing you gave him, heartlessly adding another body part of his to muzzle other than his mouth.
praedator! sylus who’s cock is achingly hard, pulsing in pure agony in its cage as it wept from the bulbous tip, flushed a deep shade of red bordering on purple from neglect. He curses you out, barks and growls at you to have you take off the muzzle and touch his bare cock. You could see how his hips jerked forward, thrashing around as much as his restraints allowed him too. And yet his feral threats only sounded yet needy pleas from the white haired praedator.
praedator! sylus who borderline whines and whimpers when you tease him long enough by denying him every single orgasm he was close to having. Even with a mere finger of yours running up and down the underside of his cock, praedator! sylus could feel his balls churning and drawing up tight, dangerously and embarrassingly close to exploding all over himself.
praedator! sylus who grunts and pants heavily like a dog when you bring his overstimulated dick to the brink of yet another climax, moaning out name like a curse and a prayer with his hoarse, baritone voice. His head thrown back would lean back forward when your fingers keep going on the agonising ministrations you provided to his erect cock, a light of hope that you’d lay mercy on him sparking in his lust-drunk mind. Hope that you’d consider finally letting him cum.
praedator! sylus who mumbles ‘yes’ repeatedly like a mantra when he feels himself inches away from spilling his load, the pads of your fingers rubbing insistently on his sensitive cockhead. His muscles flex, body tense as if bracing himself for the imminent impact that this orgasm would have on his body and mind—fuck, maybe his soul too. But you had to ruin it. Ruin the allusions of the most mind-blowing orgasm he might’ve had if you had just kept your hand moving. And now he’s a mess all over, hips bucking in the air and his rock-hard erection erupting like a fountain of thick pearly liquid of backed-up semen. His body spasms, laying back on the backrest of the chair as his thighs quiver with his entire body. His black pants are ruined, the concrete floor a lewd puddle of his baby batter that just kept flowing with each pulse of his cock and balls.
praedator! sylus whose mind turns so fucking hazy he can’t think of a single thought, only muttering promises of revenge at you while his crimson eyes remained unfocused, his vision of white spots forming as he threatened to pass out on you that very moment.
