The milking bench beneath him was unyielding, its cold surface pressing against his back. His arms, restrained in mitts and cuffs, were numb from the tight restraints. He could feel the slight give of the chain attached to the cock ring with each desperate twitch of his body. The sensation was unsettling, a constant reminder of his helplessness. He knew he was in for a slow, intense edging session. Miss M had told him exactly what she planned. A long, slow edging of a man bound onto a milking bench, the chained up cock ring would pull his balls higher, and she would laugh at his desperate whimpers and begging for her to stop.
