The bearded stud kneels over cracked stone, his ass glistening with fresh hot wax while the stocky one cracks a leather strap, each stripe a burn marking the skin. Cloth strips bind his hips tight as the other inspects the reddened flesh, fingers tracing the seared lines before the next strike lands. No mercy, just the weight of the strap and the slow drip of wax, turning his back into a canvas of pain and submission.
By Gay War Games
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