The air in my den tasted different tonight—charged with the metallic tang of my own apprehension. Kaizer stood before me, his body gleaming under the low lights, having just been milked by Dan. The roles had flipped. Dan, now dressed and smirking, fastened the last cuff around my wrist, pulling my arms taut above my head. I was strung up exactly where Dan had been hours before, naked and exposed.

“Lesson learned, big bro?” Kaizer’s voice was a low rumble as he circled me. His hands, still slick from the lube he’d used on himself, trailed over my pecs. “You taught me how to break a man. Now I’m going to show you what I’ve learned.”

His touch wasn’t playful—it was deliberate, possessive. He palmed my cock, which was already half-hard from the sheer humiliation of the situation. “Look at you. All that talk about control, and here you are, dick twitching for your trainee.”

Dan chuckled from the corner, sipping water. “He’s always been a hypocrite. Likes giving it more than taking it.”

Kaizer’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into the base of my shaft. “We’ll see about that.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You said milking is a waltz. So dance for me.”

He started slow, just as I’d taught him. Long, torturous strokes that made my hips buck involuntarily. My cock thickened in his hand, beads of pre-cum slicking his rhythm. But Kaizer wasn’t content with