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“Settle, boy,” Henry soothed, running his hand along the sub’s side, and Carter did just that.

Once Carter had calmed, Henry asked his color again. Carter gave the go-ahead with a thumbs-up, so Henry continued running the spikes of the wheel along Carter’s soft flesh. I couldn’t see it from here, but I imagined goosebumps were erupting in its wake.

Then he set the wheel down. Carter whimpered again, his body jerking involuntarily when the toy left his skin.

“I think I have something to help you stay still, boy.” Henry reached for a set of cushioned handcuffs and started attaching them to the modified bed—I assumed that was what the large slits on the side, just below the thin mattress, were for. Then he moved Carter’s wrists into position and secured them on both sides.

His ankles were next, and soon, Carter couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even imagine what Carter was feeling right now, but given his sensual muted moans, he was probably feeling amazing. It wasn’t my thing—I didn’t have the patience for this—but it was incredible to watch.

“Snap once for me, sweetie, just to make sure you still can.”

Carter did just that, then Henry inserted some ear plugs into the boy’s ears. Senses dulled so all he could do was feel, Carter painted an enticing picture of a perfect submissive.

After alternating both the feather and wheel over Carter’s sensitive skin to a chorus of muffled whimpers and groans, Henry crossed to the small table again and reached for something I hadn’t noticed yet. Even after he held it up, I squinted to try to see it better. What was that?

When he placed the transparent plastic apparatus on Carter’s taut balls then turned the screw sticking out of the top until Carter was moaning ceaselessly, my eyes shot wide.

My man had put this boy’s balls in a vise.

I—along with half the men in here, I suspected—winced while adjusting my dick in my pants. I even cupped my balls gently as if to protect them. I knew Henry wasn’t into this on a normal day.

Why was he okay with doing it now?

I glanced at his face, and though I could only see the side of it, I noticed his jaw clenching under his day-old stubble. I straightened in my seat. Something felt off with him.

Carter’s cries were almost constant now, and they drew my attention back to him. I watched the boy struggle against his bonds as Henry tightened the vise. Carter’s dick was a deep red before Henry let up. My eyes were trained on Carter’s visible hand, but he never snapped once. His fingers didn’t even twitch.

I supposed Henry had been right when he’d told me Carter liked the hard shit.

With Carter’s balls smushed and contained in a transparent and well-ventilated plastic torture device, Henry slid a gold silicone cock ring onto the base of his distended dick then reached for something else I hadn’t noticed.

A dark purple candle.

Henry gingerly carried it over to Carter’s recumbent body and held it above his chest. Then, after a visible breath, he tipped the candle until the wax fell along Carter’s pale skin.

Carter screamed, muted though it was by his gag. But the sound was unceasing as Henry trailed the wax over his nipples—earning him the loudest shout yet—then dripped the rest of the dark wax over his stomach before heading back to the table.

He picked up another candle, and I figured he had them on warming plates since I doubted the fire department would approve of open flames. My heart shot into my throat. He wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing, was he?

As he carried the melting candle over to Carter’s exposed body, I noticed Henry’s hand shaking, just a little. He clearly was struggling with this—why was he putting himself through this scene if it bothered him?

I trembled, biting my thumbnail as Henry carried the candle toward the lower half of Carter’s body, and my attention was once again pulled toward the man on the table. Because Henry was absolutely doing what I thought he was doing.

With a deep breath, Henry lifted the candle over Carter’s thighs and drizzled the wax over the sensitive skin there, over the widest part of his thigh first then his inner thighs, earning another whimper. I glanced up at Carter’s face and saw it was flushed. I couldn’t tell because the blindfold was black, but I suspected it was soaked with his tears.

My eyes were drawn back to Henry’s face as the wax trailed from the candle a foot or so above Carter’s body onto his upper thigh, dangerously close to his cock and balls. Then, as the collective air was sucked from the room, Henry cringed visibly before dripping the wax onto Carter’s shaft, coating it before moving up to his tip, Carter screaming the whole time.

But still, the sub’s fingers never snapped.

Another wince later, one I suspected no one noticed because they were watching Carter’s cock with eagle eyes, Henry poured the rest of the wax over the wide holes in the twin plastic plates squeezing the boy’s balls and onto his overly sensitive sack.

I’d never heard a more distressed scream in my life, and I suspected it would’ve burst my eardrums had he not been gagged.

Henry flinched, and my heart leapt forward as if trying to get to him. He was not okay. I wanted to hold him, tell him to stop this madness. Tell him he didn’t need to do this.

But I didn’t. And it just got worse.

Henry unstrapped Carter’s arms then folded the boy in half, guiding him to hold up his own legs. Then he reached for a small crop he had on the table and started snapping it against the exposed part of Carter’s ass and the backs of his thighs.