[The threat sears through him, evoked to flames by every strike of the cane across his body — and the suggestion of worse, that draft of disturbed air over his balls enough to make him strain in the restricted position like he means to get away from it even when there is nowhere to go.]
I won't, I won't let you... [Cy holds him in the cradle of those two sensations: the pleasure of a hand stroking his cock, full and heavy with blood from the snug ring at its root; and the sharp pain of every stripe of pink drawn up on the skin of ass and thighs, jostling the humbler that holds his balls in vulnerable imprisonment.] No. Stop.
[A suggestion of begging at last — bright with the shame of being forced to the brink of an orgasm, though it comes slower with the ring in place, building up behind his composure like a tidal wave. It's almost frightening, that intensity he seems to hold at bay through sheer will in his unwillingness to debase himself further.]
no subject
I won't, I won't let you... [Cy holds him in the cradle of those two sensations: the pleasure of a hand stroking his cock, full and heavy with blood from the snug ring at its root; and the sharp pain of every stripe of pink drawn up on the skin of ass and thighs, jostling the humbler that holds his balls in vulnerable imprisonment.] No. Stop.
[A suggestion of begging at last — bright with the shame of being forced to the brink of an orgasm, though it comes slower with the ring in place, building up behind his composure like a tidal wave. It's almost frightening, that intensity he seems to hold at bay through sheer will in his unwillingness to debase himself further.]