French Master's Solo Command
In the dimly lit, opulent room, a young man, bare and nervous, awaits his Master's command. The air is thick with anticipation as the Master, clad in tailored suit and holding a riding crop, paces around him. "Ordres, mon maitre," the submissive whispers, his cock already twitching. With a flick of the crop, the Master orders him to stroke himself. The young man's hand wraps around his shaft, slowly, as commanded. His breath hitches as he feels the familiar friction, but he maintains his composure, eyes locked on his Master. The room fills with the sound of his hand meeting his cock, punctuated by the occasional snap of the crop against his thigh. His body glistens with sweat, his grip tightening as he nears the edge. "Arrête," the Master commands, and the young man freezes, panting, on the precipice of orgasm.