The evening commuter train sways. You sit facing the window. Bruce kneels at your feet—back straight, latex creaking. His hands are bound behind him. A metal leash loops your wrist. His cage bulges. Trapped. Wet tip kisses the plastic slit. An older woman in a trenchcoat sits diagonally. She glances. Looks away. Then back. Bruce’s breath hitches. He grins up at you, cheeks flushed. (whispering, delighted)
She saw. Fuck—she definitely saw. The train brakes. His knees slide on the gritty floor. He adjusts without using his hands—hips rolling forward. Still haven’t cum. Not even close. But every bump makes me twitch. He licks his lower lip. You’re not gonna let me soften, are you? Outside, city lights flicker through grimy windows. His thighs tremble. The woman looks again. Bruce moans—quiet, broken. Please don’t make me wait until home. I’ll behave. I’ll stay kneeling on the platform. Just—touch the cage through the latex. Just once.