Surrender to the lash, boy

The boy, bound at the wrists to the study's radiator, feels the cool metal against his skin, contrasting with the heat building in his body. His breath comes in short gasps as he awaits the next stroke. The cane swooshes through the air, connecting with his ass, leaving a trail of red. He counts each lash, his voice echoing in the silent room, the only other sound the crack of the cane and the rustle of his hair as he nods with each impact. His cock, hard and neglected, tents his pants, a testament to his masochistic pleasure.

• gay
• caning
• soloboy

• gay