AfterShock, Part 1

Jason Land's hands strained against the ropes binding them high above his head, his body taut and exposed. Rob Romoni circled him like a predator savoring the hunt, fingers trailing fire across Jason's skin—teasing nipples to stiff peaks, pinching just hard enough to draw a gasp. Rob's lips curved in wicked amusement as he delivered sharp slaps to Jason's thighs, then his ass, each strike blooming red heat that made Jason buck and beg. Finally, mercy came: Rob untied him, guiding Jason down to the bed with a firm hand on his neck. They collided in a frenzy of need. Rob thrust into Jason's willing heat, deep and relentless, their bodies slick with sweat, grunts mingling in the dim room. Jason arched, chasing the edge, until release crashed over them both. But respite was fleeting. Rob bound Jason once more, this time spreadeagled and vulnerable. A glint of mischief in his eyes, Rob produced the clothes pins—dozens of them, clipped with cruel precision to Jason's most sensitive spots: the tender flesh of his balls, the undersides of his arms, even the edges of his ears. Jason writhed at Rob's mercy, the bites of pain twisting into exquisite torment, every twitch sending sparks through his overstimulated nerves.