[The squeeze at tender balls is almost too much, sensitivity sharp across nerves, causing his thighs to flex and attempt to pull away — soon stopped by the restriction of shackles that keep ankles affixed. He tries not to pant, tries to stay utterly silent as Cy removes the humbler and then tends to his wound without even a hiccup to the scene, but it's difficult. He wants to moan and squirm and thrash; he won't allow himself this indulgence, bound up in the pretense of his unwilling role easy as it is to perform. That self-denial is second nature.

The trust, however, is not — but they have worked to build a foundation over the months resilient to fear, to doubt, so that he puts himself in Cy's hands without question. Eyes follow the man's movement on the bed, knowing what is coming next and letting his expression wrinkle with a disturbance of calm.

Fingers touch him, pull off the ring, pat his balls, rub his belly with an insinuation that leaves him dizzy with desire. But his gaze never leaves the threat of the dildo, shiny from the smear of lubricant, silicone colored deep red.]

I will never surrender to you willingly, [are the hoarse words, a little slurred now from pain and pleasure alike.] I thought I'd made myself clear.

[Hurt me, the defiance in his glare suggests — and the deeper, submissive want in his heart begs.]

Do you really care? [Quieter, a murmur of low and ragged breath.] You're going to do what you want regardless. I won't demean myself for the sake of comfort.