Master's cock plunged deep into my throat, forcing its way in until there was nowhere else for it to go. It felt really deliberate, like he wanted my throat to remember the exact shape of him, to burn the sensation into muscle memory, and to make sure my body never forgot what it was like to be filled this way. The pressure was intense, overwhelming, and almost suffocating—like he was testing how far he could push me before I broke.
And somehow… it felt really good.
The irony of it wasn't lost on me, even through the haze. If my hands hadn't been bound tightly behind my back, wrists aching from the restraint, I knew I would've already been touching myself. Hell, I probably would've been a desperate mess by now, fingers slick, with me chasing that pleasure without even pretending to have shame.
But Master was punishing me.
And punishments came with rules.
