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close around one of his nipples, sucking at it then biting down, tugging it between teeth as the hand still works at the other one, making the small nubs hard and erect, just as he also feels
another
set of hands grab between his legs, right at his crotch. They seek out and find his balls, tracing the outline of them, pressing at the fabric and gripping them carefully through his jeans.
    He makes a series of small grunts, half-words mumbled around the gag and then the first clothespin is attached to his testicles.
    The thickness of the fabric covering them dulls the discomfort. It starts as a pinch, but the ache grows, spreads. He starts to breathe harshly through his nose with apprehension, then yelps in surprise when clothespins are attached to first his left nipple and then his right.
    Darrek’s heart pounds in his chest, especially when what he suspects are Gabe’s hands grab his knees and keep him spread wide as the other man attaches more clothespins to his balls.
    He counts eight in all.
    When they’re all attached, Gabe’s fingers trace along the outline of Darrek’s dick inside his pants. It pulses and strains against them. He dips his hand under the waistband of the tented pants, feathering lightly over Darrek’s erection, the proof of his arousal, showing Darrek that he knows how much all of this is turning him on. Darrek moans thickly.
    The hand slips free of his pants, and then he’s just lying there being closely observed. The pain starts out manageable, concentrated and sharp, but as the seconds turn to minutes, the pain grows exponentially.
    Darrek starts to writhe, tries to close his legs like that might help, but it makes it worse. He tries to spread them wider and that makes it worse too as the pins pull and snag at him.
    It starts to hit him then—the magnitude of what he agreed to. But he doesn’t call it off.

    Gabriel watches for a full fifteen minutes, pacing, before he starts to touch the man strapped to the table. Darrek, the paperwork said his name was, squirms and tries every possible variation of position available to him, but he can’t escape the pain. It’s beautiful to watch, especially because it’s only the beginning. Darrek doesn’t even know the meaning of the word pain. Yet.
    Gabriel nods to his assistant, Trace, a tall, stocky man ten years his senior whose grizzled beard and long hair, typically worn tied back at the nape of his neck, hides strong, handsome features. His dark eyes and piercing gaze punctuate a fearsome personality. At the signal, Trace reaches out and feathers all of the fingers of his right hand rapidly over the clothespins attached to Darrek’s testicles. Darrek cries out through the gag and tries to close his legs again. Smiling at the reaction, Trace brushes the clothespins back and forth with his palm and then takes hold of one of the pins. He doesn’t squeeze the end to release the grip of the wood at Darrek’s flesh, he grips the
top
of the pin, keeping it pinched tight and
pulls
, hard.
    Mewling sharply, Darrek flinches, his hips spasm. He tries to turn his hips away from Trace, but Trace’s firm hand only grabs Darrek’s knee and turns him back toward him. Grabbing a second pin, Trace pulls that one off as well, but does it slowly, to draw out the hurt.
    Trace knows well what Darrek is feeling, the instinct to cover the area with your hands, to tuck your hips back and away. He knows the throbbing ache, the feeling of violation, the knowledge that there’s someone touching you in your most intimate spots, doing things to you, things you can’t see coming or prepare yourself for. You just have to take it and ride out the sensations, trusting in your master. How very much Trace envies Darrek. He would give anything to be where Darrek is, experiencing this for the first time. Smiling, he yanks off another wooden pin, savoring Darrek’s low moan and jerking twist on the table.
    As the pins continue to come off, Gabriel begins to play with the ones