Mahir hung in the center of the chamber, trapped in the cruel balance of rope and hook. Every small shift of his body pulled either his arms higher or the metal hook deeper; there was no position that offered true relief. The gag kept his sounds muffled and continuous. The urethral rod prevented any full release even as his cock remained rigid and flushed dark. The weighted clamps on his nipples swung with every strained breath, the added discs making the pull constant and sharp. His wolf ears stayed fully out, twitching. His tail hung limp. His face was a deep, humiliating red.
Elara paused mid-step.
The crop lowered. She turned her head slowly and looked straight at Julian where he sat in the armchair, composed and silent, the thick outline of his arousal still plainly visible against his trousers.
"What are you doing?"
Julian's ice-blue eyes met hers without flinching. "Nothing."
A faint, knowing curve touched the corner of her mouth. "You are enjoying it, huh?"
