Çıkış yolu olmayan itaatkâr

Once locked up, he can't see anything. He no longer has an identity, no landmarks. Just my presence... and waiting. I like that silence. That suspended moment when I feel his breath shortening because he knows I'm going to start. The swift strikes through the bag, and the vibrations run through his entire body. He can't move. He can't beg me. It takes it like an object that is used. And I... I revel in this total powerlessness. I then look at him. I rub myself slowly, for a long time, letting my hips dictate the rhythm. I feel his body reacting, locked up, impossible to touch me, impossible to see what I am doing to him. It's this frustration that I want... the one that fires, that gnaws, that drives you crazy. I play with him, I play with him. And in this confinement, he discovers true freedom: that of losing himself entirely under my will. Language spoken: French. No subtitles.