He tried to press his thighs together. They wouldn't have it. They found his discarded cloth belt, rummaged in his clothing chest and found another, used them to tie his ankles to the legs of the chair. Now they had access to everything they wanted: the underside of his ass, the insides of his thighs, and he had no opportunity to protect his scrotum if they decided they wanted to put that in jeopardy. His stiff prick pressed against the chair back, the head of it just jutting over the edge, hot and aching against his belly.
"Now that's a really pretty sight." Arix sank down to the floor in front of the chair, leaned forward and reached for the underside of Shory's chin, lifting his face. Shory could still feel the wetness of tear tracks upon his cheeks, and Arix ran his thumb over one, smearing it. "So is this. Think you can make him cry some more, Ystav?"
Ystav didn't waste words, but swung the belt. Shory jerked with the first new blow, pulled against all of his bonds. Nothing gave.
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