Bound at the wrists, the slave quivers as Mistress's heels tap-tap-tap across the hardwood floor. She's a vision in scarlet, her stocking-clad legs a symphony of sin. She runs a gloved hand over his crotch, feeling the bulge in his pantyhose. "Your body betrays you, sissy," she purrs, her breath hot on his ear. She takes up a riding crop, its tip flicking against his balls. He gasps, his cock twitching. She smirks, her eyes gleaming. "CBT, my dear, is an art form. And you're my canvas." She traces the crop up his length, across his abdomen, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "Now, let's see how you handle a little... persuasion."