I showed him no sympathy.
Not when his body trembled on the edge of collapse.
Not when tears slipped down his temples.
Not when his c**k throbbed and leaked helplessly in the cool air after I denied him again.
No sympathy.
Only the cold, deliberate continuation of his measured suffering.
I stood in front of him while he remained on his knees — thighs spread wide on the raised medical bed, hands clasped behind his back, spine straight despite the violent tremor running through every exhausted muscle. Sweat rolled down his golden skin in slow rivulets. His c**k hung heavy and flushed between his spread thighs, the head swollen and shining, leaking in thick, rhythmic drops that fell onto the sheets with soft, obscene sounds.
The neutral sensitizer was still coursing through his veins, am
