Kaique’s eyes are blindfolded, his heart pounding in the stifling, pitch-black pantry where he’s been held captive. Shirtless, wearing only tight jeans that no longer conceal the unmistakable bulge of his arousal, his feet still encased in those spotless white sneakers.Master Bruno approaches without a sound, wraps thick layers of silver duct tape over Kaique’s mouth, sealing away every word, and begins the ritual. With his bare feet, he glides slowly across Kaique’s chest, tracing the contours of taut muscle, then drifts downward until he barely grazes the hard, pulsing ridge straining against the denim—drawing muffled shudders of desire and helplessness from his captive.Still unsatisfied, the Master flips him face-down and binds him in a merciless hogtie: wrists and ankles lashed tightly together behind his back with unyielding rope, body painfully arched, utterly helpless. Only then, with deliberate slowness, he tugs off the white sneakers—one by one—releasing the warm, heady scent of leather and trapped sweat into the stagnant air of the pantry. Finally, he peels away the socks, revealing Kaique’s soft, pale, exquisitely sensitive soles… now completely exposed and vulnerable to whatever the Master chooses next.
