Mark’s wrists strain against the bedframe, muscles flexing with every tremor that rolls through him. You’ve got him right where you want him — naked, flushed, helpless. His chest rises and falls with sharp, shallow breaths, every inhale catching as the cock vibrator buzzes steadily against him.
You’ve had it on him for twenty minutes now. Twenty long minutes of teasing, stroking, and pulling your hand away the second his hips stuttered or his moans hit that desperate pitch. He’s soaked in sweat, eyes glassy, lip bitten raw. His cock twitches in your grip as you wrap your hand around it again, lazy and slow. The vibrator hums beneath your fingers, perfectly in tune with his leaking, overstimulated tip.
"Please—" he gasps, voice thick and raw. “I c-can’t—need to come, please—”
You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t get to need yet,” you murmur, biting down lightly on his lobe. “You’re still being so good for me.”
His head tips back into the pillow, a broken sound clawing out of his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and you pause to wipe it away with your thumb.
“Oh, Mark,” you coo, almost mockingly sweet. “You’re crying already? That’s so pretty. You’re such a pretty little mess.”
He chokes on a moan as you twist the dial on the vibrator just one notch higher. The shift is subtle but devastating. His back arches off the mattress, legs trembling, muscles locked with the need to thrust. But he doesn’t. Not yet.
"I-It’s too much, I—" His voice is high, strangled, like he’s on the edge of breaking.
You kiss along his jaw, breath warm and slow, contrasting how worked up his body is. “It’s never too much for you. You can take it.”
“I’m—” he tries, tears streaking now, his thighs twitching. “I’m gonna come—please—”
You let go of his cock.
His entire body jolts like you struck him, a wounded noise torn from his throat. “No—no, please—!”
You tut. “Almost, baby. But you know the rules. You don’t get to come until I let you.”
He whines, squirming against his restraints, the vibrator still buzzing mercilessly around him. You drag your fingers down his abdomen slowly, watching how he twitches at every touch.
“I bet you could come just from this. Just from the vibrator,” you tease, brushing your thumb over his slick head, not stroking — just touching. “Would that embarrass you? No hands, no thrusting — just a pathetic little mess?”
He nods, breath catching again. “Y-Yeah—yes—please—”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you whisper, grinning as you reach down and cup his balls, gently massaging while the vibrator does its work. “Coming like a toy. Like my toy.”
He whimpers, so close again, the tip of his cock leaking freely. His whole body is shaking now, muscles jumping from tension and denial. You can see it in his face — how badly he wants to give in, how close he is to losing all control.
"You’re gonna cry for me again before I even let you come," you promise, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And when I do let you, you’re gonna thank me. On your knees.”
Mark’s eyes roll back as a second tear slips down his cheek. He’s not even trying to be quiet anymore — he’s whining, breathless and overwhelmed, caught in that limbo between pleasure and pain. You keep your hand there, just cradling him, watching as the vibrator pushes him to the brink again. Not touching, not helping. Just waiting.
And when he starts sobbing for real — hips bucking, thighs clenching — you finally whisper:
“Good boy. Come for me.”
Mark shatters.
His hips jerk, spine bowing off the bed as he cries out—loud, broken, utterly lost in it. His orgasm hits like a tidal wave, thick ropes spilling over his abdomen, his cock twitching violently. His throat works around a sob, eyes squeezed shut, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. But you don’t move the vibrator. You keep it right there — buzzing against the sensitive underside of his cock, your hand still loosely wrapped around him, holding him in place.
"Ah—! W-Wait—!" Mark gasps, panic bleeding into his voice. “I—it’s too much—!”
His hips try to jerk away, trembling under you, but he can’t get far. You press your free hand gently to his chest, holding him down—not forcefully, but with presence. Control. A reminder.
“Easy,” you murmur, voice calm, grounding. “You remember your safeword?”
He nods rapidly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Y-Yeah—yes.”
“Say it if you need to. No hesitation,” you say, locking eyes with him. “We stop if you say it. Understand?”
Mark swallows hard, nodding again. “I-I understand.”
You soften for a beat, leaning in to kiss his temple, sweat-slick skin warm beneath your lips.
“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now take it for me.”
And he does — or he tries. Because the vibrator keeps working him, and he’s still hard — achingly so — even post-orgasm. His cock twitches violently, oversensitive, raw. You ease your fingers under the head again, not stroking, just letting your touch remind him he doesn’t belong to himself right now.
He whines, choked and wrecked. “F-Fuck—! Oh my god—”
His thighs twitch, muscles spasming helplessly. Another orgasm builds too fast, sharp and desperate. He’s trying to hold it back, babbling through gritted teeth, but it’s no use. It tears out of him in a strangled sob as he spills again, smaller, thinner—but no less intense. Pain and pleasure blur, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Tears are streaming down his face now, silent and shining. He gasps, “Please—it hurts—!”
“I know,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness away with your thumb. “But you haven’t said your word.”
He shakes his head weakly, panting. “Don’t… want to stop…”
Your mouth curls into a pleased smile. “Good. Because you’re going to give me one more.”
He sobs—louder this time. “I-I can’t—”
“You can.” Your hand cradles his cock again. The vibrations continue without mercy. “And you will.”
Every sound he makes after that is pure wreckage. He’s not even trying to be composed anymore. Just raw noise—crying, gasping, pleading into the sheets as you guide him through the edge of another climax. He thrashes, overwhelmed, babbling your name, and you stay calm, steady—watching him with heat in your eyes.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur, brushing his cheek. “So beautiful like this. Falling apart for me.”
And then it hits again—his third orgasm, ripped from him like it’s punishment and reward all at once. He screams through it, chest heaving, tears soaking the pillow beneath his head. You don’t move the vibrator right away. You just let it rest there—buzzing quietly—while his body twitches and shakes beneath you.
Only when his moans turn to shallow, hiccuping breaths do you reach down and finally shut it off. He melts into the mattress, sobbing, but his hands are still clenched in the restraints—until you untie them. The moment his wrists are free, he curls into your touch, collapsing against your chest with trembling arms and shaking legs. You hold him close. Quiet now. Gentle. Stroking his hair.
“You did so well,” you whisper, kissing the crown of his head. “I’m so proud of you.”
Mark hiccups, still riding the aftershocks, utterly spent—but safe. And you stay right there, wrapped around him, until the trembling stops.
“Do you mean it?” He’s asking, begging, cause he needs to know that this is real.
"yes, Mark." You're responding, cooing praises into his ear. "Such a good boy, doing so well for me." He's whimpering, tears forming in his eyes from the stimulation.
You’re sitting on his thighs, warm hands wrapped around his cock as you jack him off. His hands aren’t tied, but he’s keeping them at his side, fingers in a fist, like he’s scared to touch you.
“You’re so big, Mark.” You’re whispering into his ear, thumbing his pearly tip and bringing your fingers to your mouth, sucking his pre off.
His face is sweaty, like he’s nervous, and god, does he look like a wreck beneath you. You’re pushing his hard length against your abdomen, pulling yourself in closer to him, saying, “Look how deep you’ll get. Gonna fuckin ruin me, Mark.”
And he’s moaning, high off your compliments, loving the way you’re describing him. And it would be adorable if it weren’t true, but Mark was gonna ruin you.
You know after you help him get off, once he’s done being all needy for your words he’s going to get needier for your body, and then you’ll be the one begging for mercy.
But until then, you’ll just keep your fingers circled around the base of his cock, looking him dead in the eye as you spit down on him.
You were going to be the death of him. And him, you.
titsay
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
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