By Justin I
Now…
Finally, Brock spoke, his voice calm but with an edge of teasing amusement. “So, what do you think, Jaxon? Should I take the straps off and let you go? Or should I leave you here like this? Let someone else come in and find you?”
Jaxon’s heart raced at the thought, panic flashing in his eyes as he struggled to lift his head. His body screamed in protest, muscles aching from the workout, but the idea of being left there—helpless, restrained, and locked cock exposed—was too much. His voice came out in weak, breathless protests. “No… don’t. Just… let me go,” he managed to say, his voice cracking slightly, the remnants of his frustration mingling with a hint of desperation.
Brock raised an eyebrow, considering Jaxon’s plea for a long, drawn-out moment. Then, with a small, almost amused nod, he reached down and finally undid the straps from Jaxon’s wrists. Jaxon’s arms fell limply to the mat, his body too drained to do much more than collapse in relief.
But Brock wasn’t quite done. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, sleek business card. Without a word, he leaned over Jaxon’s body and placed the card on Jaxon’s chest, the weight of it almost mocking in its simplicity.
