The workshop was dim and warm, filled with the scent of oil, wood, and leather. Cael sat naked in the center of it all, perched on a chair clearly built for no purpose other than to expose him. The seat tilted him forward, forcing his legs apart, his back arched, every inch of him bare and vulnerable. Above him, a polished wooden bar spanned the frame. His hands clutched it tight, arms stretched high, muscles trembling with the effort to hold on.
That was the rule: don’t let go.
Because if he did, the chair’s enchantment would wake - and whatever it had in store for him wouldn’t be kind.
Talli approached with that familiar, eager energy, her wild hair falling into her flushed face, silver bracelets jingling softly at her wrists. Her cropped tunic had slid off one shoulder, baring smooth skin as she leaned in close, eyes gleaming with glee.
“Ohhh, look at you,” she sang, circling him slowly, gaze devouring the sight of his stretched, trembling form. “Holding on so tight. But your poor arms… they’re gonna get so tired…”
Without waiting, she let her fingers dance along his sides, barely grazing, light as air. The first touch made his belly jump, his grip tightening instinctively. A giggle escaped her lips as she watched him struggle to stay still.
“Ticklish everywhere, aren’t you?” she teased, breath warm against his ear. Her nails flicked at his ribs, traced down his quivering abs, circled his navel. His cock twitched, heavy and leaking, betraying how badly he was already losing the battle.
She stepped back, just a little, enough to admire the view - his arms straining, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing helplessly as the sweat began to bead on his skin. The sight only seemed to thrill her more.
“Your tummy’s all tight…” she cooed, crouching so her hands could roam lower, gliding along his inner thighs, so light it barely felt like contact at all. Her fingers skated over the crease where thigh met groin, brushed just behind his balls, sent fresh shivers through his body.
He fought - fought to hold on, fought to keep his hands where they were, knuckles white, wrists trembling, every muscle burning from the effort.
But she wasn’t done. Not even close.
Her hands returned to his belly, nails flicking, stroking, tracing shapes that made his abs clench, made his breath stutter, made his cock leak fresh beads onto his slick skin. She giggled again, delighted, watching him quake beneath her playful cruelty.
“And I’m not stopping…” she whispered, fingers never still, eyes locked on his - daring him to let go, knowing he wouldn’t… at least, not yet.
Her grin deepened as she saw him strain - arms shaking, belly tight, cock slick and twitching with every tiny shiver her fingers drew from him. Talli tilted her head, playful mischief glinting in her wide, bright eyes. And then, as if struck by a delicious idea, she darted over to the workbench.
When she turned back, she held a small clay jar, sealed with wax, the contents sloshing softly inside.
“Ooooh… I almost forgot I had this,” she chimed, voice thick with glee. She popped the seal, and the rich scent of warming oil filled the air - sweet and sharp, with a hint of spice that made his skin prickle in anticipation.
“Since you’re already trying so hard…” she cooed, stepping close, “let’s make it even harder.”
Her fingers dipped into the jar, emerging slick and glistening. She started at his chest, smoothing the oil over his skin in slow, deliberate strokes. The liquid spread easily beneath her hands, warm at first, then hotter as it sank in, making every nerve hum.
She moved lower, coating his abs, her palms gliding along the tight ridges of muscle, circling his navel, sliding down toward his groin. The oil made her touch slide effortlessly, and the heat bloomed deeper with each pass of her hands.
Cael quivered, his arms burning from the effort to keep hold of the bar, his belly flushed, his cock harder than he thought possible - dripping steadily as the slick shine of the oil highlighted every twitch, every strain of his form.
She worked slowly, savoring the task - spreading the oil over his sides, his inner thighs, lifting his cock with wicked care to coat the base, his balls, the tender skin behind. Her hands glided up the length, fingertips slick and teasing, brushing feather-light as if daring him to spill.
“Look at you now,” she breathed, standing back just enough to admire the sight. “All shiny… all hot… all mine.”
And with that, she started again - oiled fingers tracing ticklish patterns along his belly, stroking his cock with maddening softness, keeping him right at that unbearable edge while he clung to the bar, every muscle trembling, desperate to obey.
Talli stepped back just a pace, tilting her head, watching him with bright, eager eyes. Cael’s entire body trembled - arms burning as he clutched the bar above, chest heaving, belly glistening and tight with effort. His cock stood hard, flushed and slick with oil, the thick shaft throbbing visibly, the head swollen and leaking steadily.
She giggled softly, biting her lip as if savoring the sight. “Ohhh… poor boy,” she whispered, voice thick with playful pity. “You look like you’d love a handjob right now…”
Her gaze lingered on his cock, admiring the way it twitched at her words, as if his body agreed - desperate, aching, begging for that last bit of mercy.
She reached out, fingers slick and warm with the oil, hovering just shy of touching him. Her breath ghosted over the head, close enough to make him shudder. “So hard… so full…” she purred. “You’re holding on so well… maybe you deserve it…”
Her hand closed around him - soft, slow, oiled fingers sliding from base to tip, so smooth it made his knees buckle despite the chair’s support. She stroked him once, watching his hips jerk, his cock pulse, his arms tremble as he fought to keep his grip on the bar.
But then - she stopped.
Her hand hovered, her grin wicked. “Mmm… not yet,” she teased, dragging her fingertips lightly down the slick length, just enough to make him gasp, just enough to make him want.
And she started again - not with mercy, but with playful cruelty. Her strokes were slow, light, just enough to feed his need, just enough to keep him desperate, knowing full well he couldn’t let go… not if he wanted to avoid the chair’s punishment.
Her giggles filled the space as she watched him quiver, every part of him screaming for release, his cock standing proud in her oiled grip, his belly tight, his breath ragged.
“You look like you’d love it…” she whispered again, delighting in every helpless twitch. “But you’ll have to earn it…”
Talli’s eyes flicked down, and her grin widened as she took in the sight - the way Cael’s heavy, plump balls hung low and tight, glistening now where the oil had dripped and pooled, the way his cock throbbed, straining against the unbearable tension. His whole body was trembling, his arms shaking as he clung to the bar, his belly tight and slick, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Ohhh… look at you,” she cooed, her voice soft, sweet, but dripping with wicked glee. “Those poor balls… so full… so ready…”
She crouched, eyes level with his aching cock, watching a fresh bead of pre-cum well up at the tip and drip down the oiled length. The sight made her giggle, delighted.
“You’re desperate to empty them, aren’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against his shaft, close enough that he could feel it, but never quite touching. “Your poor, heavy balls… so full of that juicy load…”
Her hand slid back around him - slick, warm, stroking slow, torturous, just enough to keep him right on that knife’s edge. Her thumb teased the slit, spreading the fresh slickness, her other hand gently cupping his balls, lifting them, weighing their need, fingers softly rolling them in her palm.
He bucked against her touch, hips jerking, cock twitching violently - but still he clung to the bar, knuckles white, arms trembling, every muscle straining to obey. His body screamed for release, his balls ached to spill, his cock leaked freely, desperate to give up that thick, hot load she so clearly wanted to tease from him.
She giggled again, leaning closer, voice thick with playful cruelty. “But you can’t. Not yet. You have to hold on… or the chair will punish you. And I’ll watch it do it…”
Her hands moved again - stroking, tickling, teasing - keeping him trapped in that unbearable place between need and denial, savoring every helpless shudder, every desperate, silent plea written across his flushed, trembling form.
Her giggle softened to a low, delighted hum as she watched him - arms trembling, knuckles white on the bar, every muscle in his body drawn tight as a bowstring. His cock throbbed violently in her grasp, slick and flushed, so swollen it looked almost painful, the heavy weight of his balls betraying how long he’d held on, how much he needed to spill.
“Ohhh… I can’t leave you like this,” she whispered, voice thick with glee and mock-pity. Her slick, oiled hands slid down his length, wrapping him in a soft, warm grip that made him shudder to his core.
She started to stroke - slow at first, savoring the feel of him, the way his cock pulsed in her hands, the way he gasped despite himself, unable to hide the sound this time. The oil made her touch glide perfectly - so warm, so slippery, her palms gliding from base to tip, her fingers curling just right, her thumb brushing the tender underside of the head where he was most sensitive.
“Such a good boy… trying so hard for me…” she cooed, leaning in, her breath hot against his belly, her lips brushing his skin as she worked him with slow, skillful pumps. “But now you’re going to cum. You’re going to give me everything…”
And she meant it.
Her hands quickened - still soft, still warm, but with just enough urgency now, her strokes firm and steady, gliding over him with slick, perfect friction that sent shocks through his trembling body. His hips jerked, helplessly thrusting into her grip, his cock leaking faster now, every twitch a promise of what was coming.
He moaned - low, broken, unable to stop himself - as the heat in his belly coiled impossibly tight, his balls drawing up, aching to give in. And she kept going, stroking him, pumping him, her giggle turning breathless as she felt him lose the last of his control.
“That’s it… that’s it… give it to me…”
And he did.
His cock jerked hard in her slippery hands, the first thick spurt of cum spilling over her fingers, then another, and another - hot, heavy, desperate - his moans filling the workshop as she milked every drop from him, working him through it, keeping him pumping, spilling, emptying, until there was nothing left but the trembling aftermath and the soft sound of her satisfied laugh.
She lifted her hand, admiring the mess he’d made, smearing it between her fingers with a wicked grin.
“Mmm… so much. You really needed that, didn’t you?”
And she stroked him once more - soft, slow, almost sweet - as he sagged in the chair, spent, breathless, utterly undone by her warm, slippery hands.
That was the rule: don’t let go.
Because if he did, the chair’s enchantment would wake - and whatever it had in store for him wouldn’t be kind.
Talli approached with that familiar, eager energy, her wild hair falling into her flushed face, silver bracelets jingling softly at her wrists. Her cropped tunic had slid off one shoulder, baring smooth skin as she leaned in close, eyes gleaming with glee.
“Ohhh, look at you,” she sang, circling him slowly, gaze devouring the sight of his stretched, trembling form. “Holding on so tight. But your poor arms… they’re gonna get so tired…”
Without waiting, she let her fingers dance along his sides, barely grazing, light as air. The first touch made his belly jump, his grip tightening instinctively. A giggle escaped her lips as she watched him struggle to stay still.
“Ticklish everywhere, aren’t you?” she teased, breath warm against his ear. Her nails flicked at his ribs, traced down his quivering abs, circled his navel. His cock twitched, heavy and leaking, betraying how badly he was already losing the battle.
She stepped back, just a little, enough to admire the view - his arms straining, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing helplessly as the sweat began to bead on his skin. The sight only seemed to thrill her more.
“Your tummy’s all tight…” she cooed, crouching so her hands could roam lower, gliding along his inner thighs, so light it barely felt like contact at all. Her fingers skated over the crease where thigh met groin, brushed just behind his balls, sent fresh shivers through his body.
He fought - fought to hold on, fought to keep his hands where they were, knuckles white, wrists trembling, every muscle burning from the effort.
But she wasn’t done. Not even close.
Her hands returned to his belly, nails flicking, stroking, tracing shapes that made his abs clench, made his breath stutter, made his cock leak fresh beads onto his slick skin. She giggled again, delighted, watching him quake beneath her playful cruelty.
“And I’m not stopping…” she whispered, fingers never still, eyes locked on his - daring him to let go, knowing he wouldn’t… at least, not yet.
Her grin deepened as she saw him strain - arms shaking, belly tight, cock slick and twitching with every tiny shiver her fingers drew from him. Talli tilted her head, playful mischief glinting in her wide, bright eyes. And then, as if struck by a delicious idea, she darted over to the workbench.
When she turned back, she held a small clay jar, sealed with wax, the contents sloshing softly inside.
“Ooooh… I almost forgot I had this,” she chimed, voice thick with glee. She popped the seal, and the rich scent of warming oil filled the air - sweet and sharp, with a hint of spice that made his skin prickle in anticipation.
“Since you’re already trying so hard…” she cooed, stepping close, “let’s make it even harder.”
Her fingers dipped into the jar, emerging slick and glistening. She started at his chest, smoothing the oil over his skin in slow, deliberate strokes. The liquid spread easily beneath her hands, warm at first, then hotter as it sank in, making every nerve hum.
She moved lower, coating his abs, her palms gliding along the tight ridges of muscle, circling his navel, sliding down toward his groin. The oil made her touch slide effortlessly, and the heat bloomed deeper with each pass of her hands.
Cael quivered, his arms burning from the effort to keep hold of the bar, his belly flushed, his cock harder than he thought possible - dripping steadily as the slick shine of the oil highlighted every twitch, every strain of his form.
She worked slowly, savoring the task - spreading the oil over his sides, his inner thighs, lifting his cock with wicked care to coat the base, his balls, the tender skin behind. Her hands glided up the length, fingertips slick and teasing, brushing feather-light as if daring him to spill.
“Look at you now,” she breathed, standing back just enough to admire the sight. “All shiny… all hot… all mine.”
And with that, she started again - oiled fingers tracing ticklish patterns along his belly, stroking his cock with maddening softness, keeping him right at that unbearable edge while he clung to the bar, every muscle trembling, desperate to obey.
Talli stepped back just a pace, tilting her head, watching him with bright, eager eyes. Cael’s entire body trembled - arms burning as he clutched the bar above, chest heaving, belly glistening and tight with effort. His cock stood hard, flushed and slick with oil, the thick shaft throbbing visibly, the head swollen and leaking steadily.
She giggled softly, biting her lip as if savoring the sight. “Ohhh… poor boy,” she whispered, voice thick with playful pity. “You look like you’d love a handjob right now…”
Her gaze lingered on his cock, admiring the way it twitched at her words, as if his body agreed - desperate, aching, begging for that last bit of mercy.
She reached out, fingers slick and warm with the oil, hovering just shy of touching him. Her breath ghosted over the head, close enough to make him shudder. “So hard… so full…” she purred. “You’re holding on so well… maybe you deserve it…”
Her hand closed around him - soft, slow, oiled fingers sliding from base to tip, so smooth it made his knees buckle despite the chair’s support. She stroked him once, watching his hips jerk, his cock pulse, his arms tremble as he fought to keep his grip on the bar.
But then - she stopped.
Her hand hovered, her grin wicked. “Mmm… not yet,” she teased, dragging her fingertips lightly down the slick length, just enough to make him gasp, just enough to make him want.
And she started again - not with mercy, but with playful cruelty. Her strokes were slow, light, just enough to feed his need, just enough to keep him desperate, knowing full well he couldn’t let go… not if he wanted to avoid the chair’s punishment.
Her giggles filled the space as she watched him quiver, every part of him screaming for release, his cock standing proud in her oiled grip, his belly tight, his breath ragged.
“You look like you’d love it…” she whispered again, delighting in every helpless twitch. “But you’ll have to earn it…”
Talli’s eyes flicked down, and her grin widened as she took in the sight - the way Cael’s heavy, plump balls hung low and tight, glistening now where the oil had dripped and pooled, the way his cock throbbed, straining against the unbearable tension. His whole body was trembling, his arms shaking as he clung to the bar, his belly tight and slick, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Ohhh… look at you,” she cooed, her voice soft, sweet, but dripping with wicked glee. “Those poor balls… so full… so ready…”
She crouched, eyes level with his aching cock, watching a fresh bead of pre-cum well up at the tip and drip down the oiled length. The sight made her giggle, delighted.
“You’re desperate to empty them, aren’t you?” she whispered, her breath warm against his shaft, close enough that he could feel it, but never quite touching. “Your poor, heavy balls… so full of that juicy load…”
Her hand slid back around him - slick, warm, stroking slow, torturous, just enough to keep him right on that knife’s edge. Her thumb teased the slit, spreading the fresh slickness, her other hand gently cupping his balls, lifting them, weighing their need, fingers softly rolling them in her palm.
He bucked against her touch, hips jerking, cock twitching violently - but still he clung to the bar, knuckles white, arms trembling, every muscle straining to obey. His body screamed for release, his balls ached to spill, his cock leaked freely, desperate to give up that thick, hot load she so clearly wanted to tease from him.
She giggled again, leaning closer, voice thick with playful cruelty. “But you can’t. Not yet. You have to hold on… or the chair will punish you. And I’ll watch it do it…”
Her hands moved again - stroking, tickling, teasing - keeping him trapped in that unbearable place between need and denial, savoring every helpless shudder, every desperate, silent plea written across his flushed, trembling form.
Her giggle softened to a low, delighted hum as she watched him - arms trembling, knuckles white on the bar, every muscle in his body drawn tight as a bowstring. His cock throbbed violently in her grasp, slick and flushed, so swollen it looked almost painful, the heavy weight of his balls betraying how long he’d held on, how much he needed to spill.
“Ohhh… I can’t leave you like this,” she whispered, voice thick with glee and mock-pity. Her slick, oiled hands slid down his length, wrapping him in a soft, warm grip that made him shudder to his core.
She started to stroke - slow at first, savoring the feel of him, the way his cock pulsed in her hands, the way he gasped despite himself, unable to hide the sound this time. The oil made her touch glide perfectly - so warm, so slippery, her palms gliding from base to tip, her fingers curling just right, her thumb brushing the tender underside of the head where he was most sensitive.
“Such a good boy… trying so hard for me…” she cooed, leaning in, her breath hot against his belly, her lips brushing his skin as she worked him with slow, skillful pumps. “But now you’re going to cum. You’re going to give me everything…”
And she meant it.
Her hands quickened - still soft, still warm, but with just enough urgency now, her strokes firm and steady, gliding over him with slick, perfect friction that sent shocks through his trembling body. His hips jerked, helplessly thrusting into her grip, his cock leaking faster now, every twitch a promise of what was coming.
He moaned - low, broken, unable to stop himself - as the heat in his belly coiled impossibly tight, his balls drawing up, aching to give in. And she kept going, stroking him, pumping him, her giggle turning breathless as she felt him lose the last of his control.
“That’s it… that’s it… give it to me…”
And he did.
His cock jerked hard in her slippery hands, the first thick spurt of cum spilling over her fingers, then another, and another - hot, heavy, desperate - his moans filling the workshop as she milked every drop from him, working him through it, keeping him pumping, spilling, emptying, until there was nothing left but the trembling aftermath and the soft sound of her satisfied laugh.
She lifted her hand, admiring the mess he’d made, smearing it between her fingers with a wicked grin.
“Mmm… so much. You really needed that, didn’t you?”
And she stroked him once more - soft, slow, almost sweet - as he sagged in the chair, spent, breathless, utterly undone by her warm, slippery hands.
