The Privilege of Watching [Audio]

He could hardly breathe when Miss Velvet walked past him. No. Glided past him — a living vision wrapped in power and beauty, too unattainable to touch, yet cruelly close enough to break him.

He stayed kneeling by the edge of the bed, exactly where she had ordered him. His hands rested obediently behind his back, the hard floor biting into his knees. He barely noticed. All he could see was Her.

Miss Velvet's skin glowed under the low lights, her curves draped in a black slip that clung to every perfect line. The way the fabric hugged the dip of her waist, the way her hips moved with each step—he would have given anything just to be allowed near her.

But that was never an option.

Not for him.

That was the first rule she ever taught him: Look, but never touch.

Tonight, Miss Velvet was in a particularly wicked mood. He could tell from the way she smiled at him—slow and mocking, like a cat toying with something it didn't even bother to kill. She knew how desperate he was. How badly he ached for her. And she thrived on it.

She stopped by the bed, tilting her head as she looked down at him, her lips curling into a smirk.

"You're lucky, you know," she said lightly, her voice like a silk thread tightening around his throat. "Most pathetic little things like you don't even get to watch."

His heart slammed against his ribs. Lucky. Pathetic. He wore both words like badges of honor.

She turned away, letting him drink in the sight of her back, and sat down with a slow, deliberate grace. Her bare foot dangled just inches from his face, toes perfectly polished, flexing with lazy indifference. So close. So untouchable.

His cock strained helplessly in its tiny cage, the ache as fierce as it was familiar. His arousal was a fire she fanned effortlessly, his need reduced to a throbbing, mindless ache between his legs—and he loved it.

"I've been texting him all day," Miss Velvet said, scrolling idly through her phone. "Telling him how wet I am. How badly I need a real man inside me."

She tossed a glance at him, amusement flashing in her eyes. "You should see the pictures I sent. But you won't. Poor thing."

A soft giggle slipped from her lips, slicing through what little pride he had left. He whimpered before he could stop himself.

"Aww," she cooed mockingly. "Listen to you. So needy. So useless. That little twitch in your cage... like it thinks it has anything to offer."

His face burned with shame. Miss Velvet laughed again, lounging back against the pillows, one finger tracing lazy patterns on her thigh. Her slip shifted higher, baring the soft, golden skin of her legs. He could barely breathe. His chest physically hurt from wanting her so badly.

"I should make you kneel there all night," she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe if you're very, very good, I'll let you sniff the sheets after he's done with me."

His whole body shuddered with the effort of staying still, staying silent. He was so hard it was painful. So helplessly aroused he felt sick with it. And still, he loved her. Worshiped her.

The doorknob rattled. His heart stopped.

Miss Velvet stood with a flick of her wrist, smoothing her slip down over her thighs, and crossed to the door without sparing him a glance. She opened it with an easy smile, greeting the man outside with a kiss that was deep, slow, hungry. Not like anything she would ever waste on him.

He watched. He was nothing but eyes and need.

Miss Velvet pulled the man inside, her hands running possessively over the hard muscles of his chest, her nails teasing at the waistband of his jeans. She pressed her body against him, her moan—low, unfiltered pleasure—ripping through the room like a gut punch.

"You stay right there," she said, without looking at him. "I want you to see what it looks like when a real man handles me."

And he obeyed. Because he didn't deserve anything more. Because being allowed to kneel and watch Miss Velvet glow for someone else was the highest privilege he would ever know.

The man's hands disappeared under her slip. She arched against him, her laughter soft and wicked.

The cuck's chest heaved with desperate little gasps, his caged cock jerking helplessly, trapped and utterly ignored. He didn't dare move. He didn't dare blink.

Miss Velvet finally turned her head, locking eyes with him over the man's shoulder, and smiled—a slow, devastating smile that hollowed him out.

"Be grateful," she whispered. "You're getting exactly what you deserve."

And he was.

He burned. He begged silently inside his head for just a moment longer. He stayed kneeling, small and aching and perfectly hers.

Exactly where he belonged.

The Privilege of Watching [Audio] by GoddessVelvetV

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