Sebastian Kane torments Oliver Wesley

Sebastian Kane’s grip tightens around Oliver Wesley’s wrists as the black-and-yellow restraints bite into his skin, the yellow lightning patterns stark against his pale flesh. Kane’s fingers dig into the tight asshole, stretching it open before sliding a cold blue circular object inside, while Wesley’s suspended body sways, blindfolded, as Kane teases the hole with fingers and chains. The restraints hold him still as Kane works, the tension in the air as much in the bonds as in the way Wesley’s body reacts, every pull, every press, every slow, deliberate thrust.