Her victim lies face-up on a black milking bench with a red rope crossing over his chest, midsection, and down his legs, securing him to the surface while his wrists are encircled with black leather cuffs tethered to the bench; a soft bite gag wedges between his teeth, a thick blindfold covers his eyes, and padded headphones press against his ears.
Through the headphones, he hears a haunting mix of muffled pleading and desperate screams…his own voice from past encounters..interspersed with Miss M’s clear, mocking laughter echoing around his skull.
Miss M slips into the room without a sound, her fingers grazing the restrained contours of his body as she circles the bench before settling on a stool and placing a small bottle of clear lube and a set of slender makeup brushes within reach.
She opens the lube and coats a soft-bristled brush before dragging it slowly up his inner thigh and over the head of his semi-erect **** until it springs to full hardness, beads of clear precum forming at the slit.
When the fine brushes fail to provoke more reaction, Miss M stands and leaves the room to collect some different tools. Including a spiky loofah brush and a firm, toothbrush, and drags them across his shaft, each jagged pass making him jerk and stifle high-pitched squeals.
Flicking between gentle strokes and abrasive scrapes, she maintains his arousal at the brink, then abruptly grants him a barely satisfying twitch of release before pulling back and intensifying her ministrations toward an even greater climax.
At the height of his mounting release, she holds him on the precipice, then finally allows a powerful spurt of *** to burst forth, only to sweep her hands back and forth across his still-sensitized ****, laughing at his frantic attempts to free him self and grab her hands .
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