[English]I settle him in front of me, carefully attaching th..

[English]
I settle him in front of me, carefully attaching the dildo to his waist. A substitute, an illusion. Because he knows as well as I do: he's not the one I'm going to touch tonight.

I can see him shudder as my fingers graze the silicone. He's bandaged in his cage, locked up, powerless, unable to do anything but watch and hope. Hope for what? That I'll finally deign to give him a little pleasure?

Poor submissive.

My hand begins to slide slowly over the dildo, as if I were masturbating him. As if it was him I wanted to feel harden under my caresses. I enjoy watching him twist slightly, catching that gleam of excitement and anguish in his eyes.

“Oh, Cucky... You wish it was you so much, don't you? But it's not you.”

I pick up the pace, moaning slightly just to play with his nerves. His whole body betrays his desire, his frustration. He almost moans, tries to accompany my movements... before freezing as he realizes the obvious: his cage is still there. And it won't open.

I laugh, cruel, satisfied. “Did you really think tonight would be different?”

I continue my little merry-go-round, savoring every second of his torment. There he is, horny, locked up, desperate.

And tonight again, he'll get nothing.
[Français]
Je l'installe devant moi, fixant soigneusement le gode à sa taille. Un substitut, une illusion. Car il le sait aussi bien que moi : ce n'est pas lui que je vais toucher ce soir.

Je le vois frémir lorsque mes doigts effleurent le silicone. Il est bandé dans sa cage, enfermé, impuissant, incapable de faire autre chose que regarder et espérer. Espérer quoi ? Que je daigne enfin lui donner un peu de plaisir ?

Pauvre soumis.

Ma main commence à glisser lentement sur le gode, comme si je le masturbais. Comme si c'était lui que je voulais sentir durcir sous mes caresses. Je m'amuse à le voir se tordre légèrement, à saisir cette lueur d'excitation et d'angoisse dans ses yeux.

« Oh, Cucky... Tu aimerais tellement que ce soit toi, n'est-ce pas ? Mais ce n'est pas toi. »

J'accélère le rythme, gémissant légèrement pour jouer avec ses nerfs. Tout son corps trahit son désir, sa frustration. Il gémit presque, tente d'accompagner mes mouvements... avant de se figer en réalisant l'évidence : sa cage est toujours là. Et elle ne s'ouvre pas.

Je ris, cruelle, satisfaite. « Tu pensais vraiment que ce soir serait différent ? »

Je continue mon petit manège, savourant chaque seconde de son tourment. Il est là, excité, enfermé, désespéré.

Et ce soir encore, il n'aura rien.