After spending hours on the cross, slave-boy Wyatt is currently bound wrist-to-ankle at a metal brace, his spine unnecessarily arched, his knees secured, his slender, hot body shaved smooth, nude and exposed. “I will cause you to fucking shout for me now!” He states. Anything to please you sir!” Wyatt answers, moaning in expectation. The very first blow pieces to your own skin. “Thank you, sir!” Wyatt states, following gasping from the pain. A dozen more pieces of this whip follow, leaving the young servant’s chest and abdomen crisscrossed with dreadful welts. Jared is indeed switched on, at a stage he bends and chews his injured servant’s freshly manicured pecs, then yells the wounds down, together with his palms and feet, which makes the boy yelp with pain.
