My breath catches. Not because I don’t want to. Because of how easily the words come. “Thank you.”
His mouth curves slightly. Satisfied. “Good girl.”
This time, the words land deeper. Settle. His hand slides into my hair, not rough, but firm enough to anchor me in place. “Show me how much you like it.”
Something in me shifts. Clicks. And I don’t hesitate. I close the space between us.
He responds instantly. Pulling me closer, one hand steady at my waist, the other still threaded through my hair.
Then he pushes me down onto the platform, and thereformer shifts slightly. The carriage moving under my weight. Unstable. I falter. “Careful,” he murmurs again. His hands tighten just slightly. Grounding. Positioning.
The machine moves with us—subtle, responsive. It makes everything feel sharper. More intentional.
My breath stutters.
His presence is everywhere. Close. Contained. The world constricting to just this.
The tension builds slowly. Not rushed or chaotic, but measured. Like everything else with him when he’s not unraveling.
And when I lean into him fully—when the last bit of space disappears—it doesn’t feel sudden. It feels inevitable. Like this was always where this was going to end.
Soren climbs onto the platform, towering above me. He lowers his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free, piercings glinting under the low lights.
I eye the glistening drop of precum at the tip as he uses the straps to bring me toward him.
“Get on your knees,” he commands.
I clamber to my knees, no hesitation, my eyes level with his huge, engorged cock.
“Open,” he says, nudging my jaw with a shin.
I open my mouth to take in the tip. I keep my head still, allowing him to direct the pace and the depth.
He pulls my face up to his cock, closer, and holds the straps taut. “Suck it,” he commands, and I bob my head around the tip.
“Lick the underside, one slow motion. Over all the piercings,” he directs me.
I obey, the metal bars jostling against my lower teeth.
“Now fuck me with your mouth,” he growls.
My lips, slick with saliva, slide over his shaft as he directs the pace, his hands gripping the straps tighter, pulling me even closer.
I take him in as far as he’ll go, and he yanks on the straps again, forcing himself deeper into my mouth.
His hardness hits the back of my throat, tears teasing the corners of my eyes. He pulls himself forward, lodging himself further inside.
Tears sting my eyes as I gag, pulling back, saliva slipping from my mouth.
He laughs quietly. “Good girl,” he says. “I like it when you gag for me.”
Soren unwraps his hands from the ropes, still holding onto them. He leans down, his cock slipping out of my mouth.
He adjusts the pulleys, his muscled arms flexing as he wraps one rope around my wrist, extending my arm above my head. Then he repeats the same motion with the other, so both of my arms are trapped above me.
I gasp as he takes my nipples between his fingers, pinching them roughly against the silver bars, rolling them until they’re hard. Then he bends me forward.
He lowers my chest and slots one of my nipples between the cool spring coils at the base of the reformer.