“Begging for pay” (Part 2)
The work wasn’t done — not for him. After daring to beg for payment, I decided to keep playing with my little slave. If he really wanted his pathetic, miserable pay, he’d have to earn it — with his body, with his submission, with every humiliating second under me. He stays low, beneath me where he belongs, while I taunt him with every step, every word, every breath thick with musk and dominance. I press him into the sole of my foot, speaking to him like the good-for-nothing tiny thing he is. But I want more. I tell him to crawl along my leg — my hairy, powerful leg — until he reaches my balls. Just when he thinks he’s going there, I change my mind. Why give him the pleasure so soon? First, I want him crawling across my chest, feeling the heat of my body, the weight of my pecs, the musk from my pits.
He gets lost between the hair of my chest, smothered by my armpits, rubbed against my beard while I keep talking to him — reminding him who owns him, who rules over him. My voice is the only thing he hears, low and commanding, while my body becomes his world. I take pleasure in how pathetic he looks, so small between my pecs. I tell him how lucky I am to be this huge, this powerful… and what a shame it must be to live life that small, that weak. Then I lay back and spread my legs, towering above him, giving him a full view as I get off my shorts — leaving only my tight briefs stretched around everything he’s too tiny to handle. I keep him there, staring, knowing exactly what’s coming next. But not yet. Not until I say so.
Video duration: 15:50
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